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ISLA    HERON 


BY 

LAURA    E.   RICHARDS 

AUTHOR  OF  " CAPTAIN  JANUARY,"  "MELODY,"  "MARIE,"  " NAUTILUS," 
"  QUEEN  HILDEGARDE,"  ETC. 


Illustrate* 

BY 

FRANK  T.    MERRILL 


Fifth   Thotisand 


BOSTON 
ESTES    AND    LAURIAT 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1896, 

BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT 

All  rights  reserved 


Colonial 

C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co..  Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  by  Gee.  C.  Scott  &  Sons 


TO   MY  HUSBAND 

AFTEB  TWENTY -FIVE   HAPPY  YEARS 
1871  —  1896 


2019811 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  PREACHER  ........   IS 

II.  THE  HERONS .20 

III.  SPRING  AND  THE  CHILDREN      .....       26 

IV.  THE  SCARLET  SORREL 35 

V.  «  LONE,  LONE,  THOU  HAST  LEFT  ME  HERE  "          .      40 

VI.     THE  NEW  TEACHING        - 48 

VII.  LITTLE  JACOB     ........       57 

VIII.     LOCHABER  No  MORE! 64 

IX.     THE  NEW  SCHOLARS 71 

X.    JOE'S  TREASURY 79 

XI.     DISCOVERY 85 

XII.     THE  WILD  ROCKS  AGAIN 97 

XIII.     THE  LAST ,102 


ISLA    HERON 


ISLA  HERON. 

CHAPTER   I. 

THE    PKEACHEK. 

THE  morning  service  was  over,  and  the  congregation 
gone  home.  The  preacher  was  to  dine  with  Captain 
Maynard,  but  there  was  an  hour  and  more  to  dinner-time, 
and  she  had  begged  permission  to  stroll  about  for  half  an 
hour,  promising  to  find  her  way  to  the  comfortable  white 
cottage,  perched  on  a  point  of  rock  overlooking  the  little 
bay. 

Now  she  was  standing  on  the  lower  rocks,  looking  about 
her ;  a  trim,  quiet  figure  in  a  black  gown,  with  a  close 
straw  bonnet  set  on  her  smooth  brown  hair.  She  "  did  n't 
handsome  much,"  the  people  decided,  but  she  had  a  taking 
way  with  her,  and  preached  good,  sound  Advent  doctrine. 
They  were  glad  she  had  come,  and  would  be  sorry  when 
the  schooner  should  take  her  on  her  way  the  next  day,  to 
preach  at  other  places  along  the  coast. 

The  young  woman  seemed  to  be  looking  for  some  one, 
for  she  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  gazed  earnestly 
up  and  down  the  line  of  rocks.  So  absorbed  was  she,  that 
she  almost  stumbled  over  a  figure  sitting  on  the  rocks, 


14  I  SLA  HERON. 

which  now  rose  and  confronted  her.  A  strange  figure 
enough ;  so  rough  and  gray  and  battered  that  it  was 
hardly  to  be  wondered  at  that  she  had  not  distinguished 
it  from  the  rock  itself.  The  face  it  turned  upon  her  was 
red  and  brown  in  patches,  as  if  the  skin  were  moth- 
eaten  ;  the  mouth  was  huge  and  misshapen ;  only  the  blue 
eyes,  bright  and  kindly,  redeemed,  in  some  degree,  the 
hideousness  of  the  other  features. 

"  Mornin',  preacher !  "  said  this  strange  being.  "  You 
preached  good  this  mornin'.  Joe  heard  you;  you  might 
not  have  seen  him,  for  he  stood  in  the  doorway,  but  Joe 
heard  you,  and  it  done  him  good." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that ! "  said  the  preacher,  smiling. 
"  No,  I  did  not  see  you.  What  is  your  other  name,  beside 
Joe  ?  I  could  hardly  call  you  by  that,  could  I  ? " 

"  Brazybone ;  Joe  Brazybone.  Sculpin  Joe,  the  boys 
call  me.  They  don't  think  Joe  's  handsome,  round  here  ; 
but  he 's  got  an  uglier  one  to  home,  he  tells  'em.  Ma'am 
Brazybone,  she  beats  Joe,  preacher,  I  tell  you." 

"Your — your  wife?"  asked  the  preacher,  hardly 
knowing  what  to  say. 

"Brother's  wife,"  said  Joe.  "  Widder,  I  should  say. 
Brother  died  ten  year  ago,  effects  of  lookin'  at  her  too 
much.  He  was  tender,  Joe 's  tough.  I  hope  to  wear 
her  out  fust,  lookin'  at  me,  but  ther's  no  sayin'.  There 
she  is  now,  out  searchin'  for  me.  Don't  you  say  a  word, 
preacher,  don't  you  say  a  word !  She  can't  see  none  too 
well,  and  I  ain't  goin'  in  yet  for  a  spell," 

He  crouched  down  against  the  rock,  and  again  seemed 


THE  PREACHER.  15 

almost  a  part  of  it.  The  preacher,  half  amused,  half  em- 
barrassed, stood  still,  as  a  woman  came  out  of  a  tiny  hut 
near  by,  and  peered  about  her  with  angry,  short-sighted 
eyes.  Mrs.  Brazybone  was  a  vast  woman,  with  a  face  like 
a  comic  nightmare,  and  a  set  of  misfit  features  that  might 
have  been  picked  up  at  a  rag  and  bottle  shop.  Her  hair" 
was  untidy,  her  dress  awry,  and  her  little  eyes  gleamed 
with  ill-humour.  "  Decidedly,"  thought  the  preacher,  "  Joe 
is  right,  and  she  is  the  worse  of  the  two." 

"  Joe  Brazybone  !  "  called  the  sister-in-law.  "  Joseph  ! 
you  comiu'  in  to  dinner  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Joe  Brazybone,  will  you  speak  to  me  ?  I  know  you 
are  there  somewheres,  if  I  can't  see  you.  Now  you  come 
in,  or  you  won't  get  no  dinner  this  day.  Skulkin'  round 
those  rocks,  as  if  you  was  a  seal !  I  wish  't  you  was  !  " 

She  went  into  the  house  and  shut  the  door  with  a  bang. 

"  Is  this  wise  ? "  asked  the  preacher,  looking  down  at 
Joe,  who  was  shaking  with  silent  laughter.  "  Why  do  you 
want  to  make  her  angry,  Joseph  ?  and  you  will  be 
hungry  presently,  if  you  are  not  now." 

"  Joe  cooks  his  own  dinner,  whenever  he  gets  a  chance, 
preacher.  He 's  a  good  cook,  Joe  is,  and  Mother  Brazy- 
bone ain't,  you  see.  She  '11  go  off  a-visitin'  pretty  soon, 
and  then  Joe  '11  get  him  some  dinner.  What  was  you 
lookin'  for,  preacher,  when  you  come  out  here  on  my 
rocks  ?  You  was  lookin'  for  some  one,  and  it  was  n't  Joe." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  preacher,  "I  saw  a  young 
girl  in  the  hall,  —  or  rather,  she  stood  outside,  leaning 


16  ISLA   HERON. 

in  at  the  window,  —  whose  face  interested  me  greatly. 
She  disappeared  before  the  service  was  over,  and  I  won- 
dered if  I  might  see  her  somewhere.  I  —  I  hardly  know 
why  I  came  down  here  to  look  for  her.  She  was  a  beauti- 
ful girl,  about  fourteen,  I  should  think,  with  long  hair  of  a 
strange  colour,  and  very  brilliant  eyes." 

She  paused,  for  Joe  Brazybone  was  nodding  and  blinking 
with  every  appearance  of  delight. 

"  You  saw  her,  did  you  ? "  he  said.  u  Yes  !  yes  !  any- 
body would  notice  Isly.  She'd  be  queen  of  this  hull 
island,  if  folks  had  their  rights,  and  if  other  folks  knowed 
a,  queen  when  they  saw  her.  Not  governor,  I  don't  mean, 
nor  yet  anything  of  that  sort,  but  a  real  queen,  with  a 
crown  on  her  head,  and  all  the  folks  down  on  their  marrer- 
bones  every  time  she  set  her  foot  out-o' -doors." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  preacher.  "  Do  you 
mean  that  the  island  belongs  by  right  to  that  young  girl  ?  " 

Joe  nodded  like  a  mandarin. 

"  It  does,  by  the  rights  of  it.  Every  step  and  foot  of 
land  belongs  to  the  Herons,  and  she 's  the  only  Heron  left 
alive,  save  and  except  the  boy,  as  he  don't  count,  bein'  deef- 
dummy.  But  Isly  Heron  she 's  the  born  queen,  and  you  may 
believe  what  Joseph  says  about  that,  preacher.  I  knowed 
Herons  all  my  life.  Herons  was  master  folks  over  on  the 
main,  before  ever  they  come  here.  When  they  come  over, 
they  brought  Brazybones  with  'em,  to  clean  their  fish  and 
wash  out  their  boats.  Long  ago  thet  was,  way  back  among 
the  gret-grets,  and 't  hes  been  so  ever  since,  till  it  come  down 
to  Giles  and  Joe.  Joe  done  it,  too,  as  long  as  Giles  would 


THE  PREACHER.  17 

let  him.  Old  Joe  would  ha'  done  it  to  the  last,  but  Giles 
sent  him  away.  He  was  sick  and  suffering  Giles  was,  and 
he  did  n't  want  old  Joe  to  know  it,  but  Joe  did  know. 
Joe  would  have  died  when  Giles  did,  preacher,  if  it  had  n't 
ha'  been  for  Isly  and  the  boy." 

The  strange  creature  was  brushing  his  ragged  gray 
sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  quavered  curiously. 

"  You  never  saw  Giles  ? "  he  said,  looking  up  presently. 

"  Giles  was  Isly's  father,  but  he 's  dead  now.  You 
might  never  have  seen  him  formerly,  when  he  was  over 
on  the  main  some  time  ?  " 

The  preacher  shook  her  head. 

"  He  was  another!  "Joe  went  on,  half  to  himself.  "  Like 
a  king,  Giles  was,  for  all  his  smilin',  pleasant  ways.  Most 
folks  didn't  know  it,  but  Joe  knovved  it.  Many  's  the  time 
I  've  hid  down  against  the  rock,  after  Giles  would  n't  see 
me  no  more,  and  waited  so  I  could  touch  him  when  he 
went  by.  It  done  me  good  to  touch  his  coat;  I  felt  good 
come  out  to  me,  every  time  I  done  it." 

He  stared  at  the  preacher,  and  she  stared  back  at  him, 
thinking  him  out  of  his  wits.  Probably  he  was,  or,  more 
likely  still,  he  had  never  had  his  full  share  of  intelligence. 
Yet,  if  the  preacher  had  been  a  seer  —  if  she  had  had  powers 
of  vision  that  could  pierce  the  veil  of  past  as  of  future 
years  —  she  might  have  called  up  scenes  and  figures  that 
from  century  to  century  should  seem  to  justify  some  of  Joe 
Brazybone's  ideas,  fantastic  as  they  were.  She  might  see, 
in  generation  after  generation,  two  figures  side  by  side,  one 
masterful,  dominant,  the  other  crouching,  serving,  loving, 


18  ISLA   HERON. 

coming  to  heel  when  called,  like  a  dog,  springing  like  a 
man  to  action  at  the  master's  word.  One  might  almost, 
even  now,  fancy  a  dim  scene,  half  hidden  by  rolling  clouds 
of  dust  and  smoke.  A  battle-field.  Gilles  Tete  d'Airain, 
the  fair-haired  Norman,  stands  wiping  his  bloody  sword, 
and  calls  back  his  men  from  the  pursuit,  for  the  enemy  is 
scattered  beyond  redemption.  The  half -savage  soldiers 
come  trooping  back  with  wild  gestures,  with  great  shouts 
of  triumph.  Among  them  the  chief  singles  out  one,  an 
ugly  fellow  of  enormous  strength,  who  twice,  since  the 
bloody  morning,  has  stood  between  his  master  and  death. 
He  kneels,  a  serf,  bound  for  life  and  for  death  ;  he  is  bid- 
den to  rise  a  free  man,  with  henceforth  a  name  and  a  station 
of  his  own. 

"Brave  et  bon  tu  t'es  montre  ;  Brave-et-Bon  sera  ton 
nom,  d  'id  a  jamais  !  " 

The  clouds  roll  forward,  the  vision  is  gone.  But  was 
this  true  ?  and  has  Tete  d'Airain  sunk  to  mere  Heron,  and 
has  Brave-et-Bon,  good  and  brave,  drawled  itself  away  into 
Brazybone  ?  If  this  were  so,  it  might  account  for  poor 
Joe's  attitude,  at  which  all  the  villagers  laugh. 

"  You  'd  like  to  see  Isly,  preacher  ?  You  was  meanin' 
to  speak  to  her  ?  " 

"I — yes,  if  you  think  she  would  like  to  see  me.  Her 
face  interested  me  greatly ;  I  should  like  to  see  her  nearer, 
and  make  her  acquaintance." 

"  This  way,  preacher !  this  way  !  you  're  the  right  sort ; 
a  lady  yourself,  and  knowin'  a  lady  when  you  see  one. 
Mother  Brazybone,  she  would  have  taken  Isly  home  when 


THE  PREACHER.  19 

her  mother  died;  but  I  wouldn't  hear  to  it.  I  know'd 
how  't  would  be.  She  'd  ha'  set  her  to  work,  and  tried  to 
make  a  servant  of  her ;  Isly  Heron  doin'  Mother  Brazy- 
bone's  work!  Guess  the  solid  rocks  would  ha'  come  down 
to  do  the  cookin'  fust,  'fore  they  allowed  any  such  doin's. 
These  rocks  know  Herons,  I  tell  you,  most  as  well  as  old 
Joe  does.  They  laid  soft  under  Giles,  that  day  he  was  up 
yonder."  He  nodded  upward,  toward  a  huge  mass  of  rock 
that  towered  across  the  narrow  bay,  the  younger  sister  of 
the  Island  of  the  Wild  Rocks. 

The  preacher,  more  and  more  puzzled,  followed  her 
strange  guide,  as  he  led  the  way  toward  a  point  of  rock 
not  far  distant. 

"  She  '11  be  here,  likely  !  "  he  said.  "  She  often  stops 
here  on  her  way  home,  Isly  does,  to  look  about  her,  and 
see  the  lay  of  the  land.  She  thinks,  too,  Isly  does !  A 
power  of  thinkin'  she  keeps  up !  Wonderful,  for  one  of  her 
size,  if  she  war  n't  a  Heron,  and  thinkin'  natural  to  'em  all, 
— wonderful ! " 

They  turned  the  point  of  rock,  and  came  directly  upon 
the  person  of  whom  they  were  in  search.  She  was  stand- 
ing still,  with  her  hands  folded,  looking  out  to  sea ;  a 
slender,  youthful  figure,  lonely  as  the  rocks  around  her. 
This  was  Isla  Heron.  And  while  Joe  Brazybone,  in  his 
clumsy  way,  is  presenting  the  preacher  to  her,  as  if  the 
crown  he  fancied  were  shining  in  actual  gold  on  her  head, 
let  us  go  back  a  little,  and  see  who  the  child  is,  and  who 
her  father  was,  the  Giles  Heron  who  was  so  faithfully 
loved,  and  who  is  now  gone  to  his  own  place. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    HERONS. 

THE  child  Isla  might  have  been  twelve  years  old  when 
her  father  died.  Giles  Heron  was  the  last  man  of 
his  people,  unless  you  counted  the  boy,  and  no  .one  did 
count  him.  The  Herons  had  owned  the  whole  island  once, 
but,  bit  by  bit,  it  had  passed  away  from  the  name,  if  not 
from  the  blood ;  they  had  no  gift  for  keeping,  it  was  said. 
A  roving  people,  the  Herons  mostly  died  at  sea,  or,  if 
women,  married  into  families  on  the  main,  as  we  call  the 
shore  that  on  fine  days  can  be  dimly  seen  from  the  Island 
of  the  Wild  Rocks.  Giles  had  been  a  wild  lad,  and  held 
himself,  as  all  his  people  had  done,  above  the  fishing -folk 
in  the  village  at  the  north  end.  Few  of  them  knew  him 
well ;  there  was  only  Joe  Brazybone,  Sculpin  Joe,  who 
from  babyhood  had  been  his  humble  and  loving  servant, 
and  who  still  clung  to  him,  until  that  strange  affair  of 
the  marriage.  To  most  of  the  villagers  it  seemed  "  all 
of  a  piece,"  and  "Heron  doings,"  when  Giles  brought 
home  from  some  foreign  port  a  handsome  deaf-mute,  a 
"  dummy,"  as  a  wife.  Joe  would  have  been  her  servant, 
too,  gladly  enough;  but,  when  he  came  shambling  along 
the  rocks  to  make  his  first  visit,  the  young  woman  turned 
and  ran  from  him ;  and  Giles  laughed,  and  told  him  he 


THE  HERONS.  21 

would  best  keep  away  for  a  time.  Poor  Joe  did  not 
come  again. 

Giles  built  a  house,  —  you  might  look  long  for  it  now, — 
at  the  wild  south  end  of  the  island,  which  still  belonged  to 
him.  Neither  Joe  nor  any  pne  else  would  visit  him  there, 
he  knew,  for  it  was  considered  an  unlucky  place,  and  no 
one  knew  what  things  might  be  met  with  there.  But  Giles 
loved  it,  and  as  for  his  wife,  the  Wild  Rocks  bounded  the 
world  for  her,  once  Giles  told  her  it  was  her  home.  Here 
their  two  children  were  born.  The  first  was  a  daughter, 
and  Giles  named  her  Isla,  in  fanciful  remembrance  of  the 
savage  island  which  was  her  birthplace  and  his.  When 
the  boy  came,  four  years  later,  the  dumb  wife  would  have 
given  him  his  father's  name ;  but  Giles  said  "  No ! "  It 
was  no  chancy  name,  and  the  boy  should  be  called  Jacob, 
after  a  grandfather  over  on  the  main,  who  had  no  Heron 
blood  in  him.  "  See  if  we  can't  make  him  a  farmer,"  he 
said,  laughing.  "  There  's  good  farming  land  here ;  and 
the  sea  is  hungry  for  folks  named  Giles  Heron."  Mary 
Heron  yielded,  as  she  would  yield  to  anything  that  Giles 
wished.  She  was  passionately  loving,  in  her  silent  way. 
Her  husband  would  have  filled  her  world  full  enough,  had 
there  been  no  children ;  she  had  hardly  the  mother  look 
in  her  eyes ;  but  the  children  were  his,  and  she  loved  and 
cared  for  them  ;  most  for  the  boy,  who  should  have  borne 
his  father's  name,  and  whom  she  still  called  "  little  Giles," 
in  her  heart. 

A  his!  but  he  bore  his  mother's  curse.  Isla  learned 
speech  readily  from  her  father ;  but  little  Jacob  was  mute 


22  ISLA  HERON. 

from  birth.  No  sound  came  into  his  quiet  world,  but  he 
missed  nothing ;  the  sign  language  spoke  for  his  every 
need,  and  his  eyes  were  filled  with  beauty  all  day 
long. 

It  was  a  black  day  for  Giles  Heron  when  he  found  the 
boy  was  deaf.  For  the  first  time  his  heart  hardened 
toward  the  woman  he  had  chosen.  She  felt  the  chill  of 
his  averted  face,  of  the  eyes  that  would  not  meet  hers ; 
felt  it,  and  cried  to  God  in  her  dumbness,  that  He  would 
take  her  and  her  stricken  child  away,  out  of  sight  of  her 
husband's  changed  face. 

But  Heron  was  a  kind  man.  He  had  wedded  his  wife 
for  her  wild  beauty ;  he  had  grown  to  love  her  simple 
goodness  and  truth.  He  smiled  again,  but  neither  forgot ; 
do  people  ever  forget  ?  He  set  himself  busily  to  teach  the 
girl  all  he  knew, —  not  much,  perhaps,  reading  and  writing, 
ciphering,  odd  scraps  of  history  and  geography.  He  had  a 
few  tattered  books  by  him,  — there  were  not  many  books 
on  the  Island  in  those  days,  but  Giles  had  picked  them  up 
here  and  there  in  his  wanderings, —  and  the  two  pored  over 
these  hour  by  hour.  The  dumb  mother  sat  near,  nursing 
her  dumb  child,  and  longing  for  death  ;  but  not  to  her  was 
death  coming. 

It  was  Giles  Heron  who,  still  in  mid -prime,  felt  his 
strength  going  from  him.  His  people  had  never  had  the 
sturdy,  four-square  constitution  that  was  the  birthright  of 
most  of  the  islanders.  They  were  slender,  the  Herons, 
wiry  and  tough  as  a  rule,  but  with  here  and  there  a  nar- 
row chest  that  could  not  answer  year  after  year  to  the  call 


THE  HERONS.  23 

for  struggle  against  the  icy  winds  of  winter.  One  March 
the  north  wind  raged  for  a  week  without  ceasing.  Heron 
never  thought  of  staying  within  doors,  but  he  felt  the  cold 
strike  deeper  and  deeper,  till  it  had  him  by  the  heart ;  a 
cough  fastened  upon  him,  and  fatalism  did  the  rest. 

"  I  've  got  my  call ! "  he  said.  "  If  they'll  let  me  stay 
till  spring,  I  'd  as  lief  go  as  not." 

He  turned  with  feverish  earnestness  to  Isla's  lessons, 
and  racked  his  brains  for  forgotten  rules  of  his  school- 
days. Hour  after  hour  they  sat  in  the  still  sunny  cove 
which  was  their  schoolroom,  and  he  mapped  the  globe  and 
the  different  countries  on  the  fine,  white  sand, — he  had 
always  been  a  fair  draughtsman,  —  and  told  her  how  he 
had  visited  this  city  and  that,  and  how  the  people  looked 
and  spoke  and  moved. 

"  I  like  Greece  best ! "  said  the  child.  "  Shall  we  go 
there,  Giles,  when  I  am  big,  and  live  in  one  of  those  white 
things  —  temples  —  where  the  roof  is  broken,  and  the  sky 
comes  through  ?  I  hate  roofs  !  " 

"  Greece  is  a  good  way  off,"  said  Giles.  "  Bellton  is 
nearer,  little  girl ;  yon  shall  go  to  Bellton.  See !  here  it 
would  be,  not  three  days'  sail.  I  was  there  a  couple  of 
times ;  there  was  a  place  with  trees,  and  a  pond,  might  be 
the  size  of  this  cove  here.  Like  to  go  there  ?  " 

"  A  re  there  rocks  ? "  asked  the  child.  "  Can  you  see 
the  sky?" 

"  Well,  no ;  not  much.  The  people  live  in  brick  houses, 
joined  together  in  rows,  this  way,"  and  he  drew  a  street, 
with  neat  sidewalks,  and  people  passing  up  and  down. 


24  I8LA   HERON. 

"  I  '11  never  go  there  !  "  said  Isla  with  decision.  "  It 's 
like  the  jail  you  told  me  of,  over  on  the  main." 

"Just!"  said  her  father,  nodding.  "Only  folks  build 
these  jails  and  live  in  them,  because  they  like  'em.  Some 
stay  in  'em  all  winter,  I  believe,  and  never  go  out  from 
October  to  May.  And  call  that  living  !  I  '11  take  my  way 
every  time,  thank  you,  if  it  is  shorter." 

"Are  they  white  folks?" 

"  White  ?  yes,  child !  white  as  anybody  is ;  whiter,  too, 
like  a  cellar-plant,  because  they  get  no  sun." 

"I  did  n't  know  !  "  said  Isla.  "  I  thought  maybe  they 
turned  black.  But  I  '11  never  go  there." 

Her  father  mused  ;  then  he  drew  a  larger  building  at 
the  end  of  the  street,  with  towers  and  pinnacles. 

"  Here  'd  be  a  church  !  "  he  said.  "  You  'd  like  that,  Isla. 
There 'd  be  music,  an  organ,  likely,  and  lots  of  singing. 
The  windows  are  coloured  red  and  blue,  and  the  light 
comes  in  like  sunset  all  day." 

"  That 's  pretty  ! "  the  child  nodded,  approvingly.  "  What 
do  they  do  there,  Giles  ?  " 

"  Like  a  meeting-house ;  say  prayers,  and  preach,  and 
sing  hymns  and  things;" 

"  Oh !  "  she  paused,  and  the  brightness  passed  from  her 
face. 

"  Do  you  think  He  likes  that,  Giles  ?  " 

She  nodded  upward.  Her  father  made  no  reply.  He 
was  not  a  religious  man,  but  had  thought  it  right  to  tell  the 
child  that  there  was  some  one  called  God,  who  lived  above 
the  sky,  and  who  knew  when  people  did  wrong. 


THE  HERONS.  25 

"  He  has  all  outdoors,"  Isla  went  on.  "  I  should  think 
He  would  hate  a  house,  even  if  it  was  big.  Do  you  suppose 
they  try  to  fool  Him  with  the  coloured  windows,  Giles  ?  " 

Giles  thought  this  unlikely  ;  perhaps  they  supposed  He 
might  feel  more  at  home  where  't  was  coloured  and  pretty, 
he  added,  trying  to  fall  into  the  child's  mood. 

The  girl  was  silent.  "  Is  He  dumb,  Giles,  do  you  think  ?  " 
she  asked  presently. 

"  I  don't  know, "  said  Giles.  "  He  never  spoke  to  me. 
What  are  you  thinking  of,  Isla  Heron  ?  " 

"Oh  — only  I  hear  like  voices  sometimes  in  the  wind, 
and  down  by  the  shore  more  times  ;  and  I  wondered,  that 
was  all.  Do  you  suppose  ever  He  would  speak  to  a  girl, 
Giles  ?  " 

"  Sooner  than  any  one  else  !  "  said  Giles  Heron. 

"  He  's  good,  you  're  sure  ? " 

"  Yes,  they  all  say  He  's  good." 

Then  Giles  made  the  sign  for  silence,  for  his  heart 
seemed  to  lie  cold  and  beat  heavily ;  and  Isla  fell  a-d ream- 
ing, feeling  the  stillness  as  home. 


CHAPTER   III. 

SPRING    AND    THE    CHILDREN. 

SPRING  came  at  last,  waking  slowly,  as  it  does  on  the 
rocks  out  at  sea.  Giles  Heron,  from  his  doorway, 
watched  the  green  creeping  slowly  through  the  dry,  russet 
grass,  and  felt  a  faint  stirring  at  his  heart ;  this  was  his 
last  spring  on  the  pleasant  earth,  and  he  could  think  of 
nothing  homelike  that  he  might  look  forward  to.  God  was 
good,  probably,  and  'twas  likely  things  were  going  as  they 
should  ;  but  it  looked  cold  and  dark  ahead.  He  liked  to 
feel  the  bones  of  the  rocks  warming  through,  as  the  sun 
rose  higher,  and  the  yellow  beams  grew  stronger.  He 
hailed  every  waking  smell  of  leaves,  of  new  grass,  of  wet, 
softening  mould.  His  chief  delight  was  to  lie  down  on  the 
dense  carpet  of  trailing  yew  that  spread  a  few  yards  from 
his  cottage  door,  and  feel  it  curl  and  close  round  him  thick 
and  fragrant ;  he  smiled  as  he  remembered  the  island 
legend  of  the  yew's  closing  so  once  round  a  man  who  had 
landed  on  the  south  rocks  with  some  evil  intent,  —  Giles, 
in  his  weakness,  could  not  remember  what  evil, —  closing 
round  him  and  holding  him  so  a  prisoner,  till  the  fishermen 
heard  his  starving  cries,  and  rescued  him,  and  carried  him 
over  to  the  main  with  a  warning,  scarcely  needed,  never  to 
set  foot  on  the  island  again. 


SPRING   AND    THE  CHILDREN.  27 

Such  talcs  they  told,  such  foolery  !  He  supposed  it  was 
the  wind  got  into  their  heads,  when  it  blew  all  winter,  and 
beat  their  brains  about.  One  tale  brought  another,  how- 
ever, and  he  found  himself  thinking  of  a  story  they  told  of 
his  own  people.  What  was  it  about  the  scarlet  sorrel 
over  on  Toluma?  Toluma  is  the  sister  island,  a  huge  rock, 
bare  and  gray  for  the  most  part,  but  with  a  great  mantle 
of  sorrel  flung  over  one  shoulder,  which  blossoms  blood-red 
in  the  season.  What  was  the  story  CJiles  had  heard  when 
he  was  a  boy,  about  the  red  sorrel  taking  its  colour  from  the 
blood  of  the  Herons?  He  had  not  thought  of  all  these  old 
stories  for  years,  but  now  they  came  back  to  him,  vague  nud 
dim,  yet  homelike  as  nothing  else  was.  The  first  I  let-on,  lie 
who  came  over  to  the  island  because  he  could  not  stay  on  the 
main,  having  slain  his  enemy  there ;  that  first  Giles  Heron 
of  whom  any  record  remained,  had  taken  his  life,  over 
there  on  the  high  shoulder  of  Toluma.  It  was  in  June, 
when  the  sorrel  was  blossoming,  and  ever  since  then,  the 
colour  of  it  had  not  been  tawny-red,  as  in  most  places,  but 
blood-red.  That  was  what  they  used  to  say,  when  he  was 
a,  boy ;  and  surely  the  sorrel  was  redder  there  than  he  had 
ever  seen  it  elsewhere.  Was  it  the  colour  of  blood,  how- 
ever ?  Tt  would  be  curious  to  see  now.  Suppose  when  one 
got  a  little  weaker,  —  seeing  that  even  now  it  was  hard  to 
get  about,  hard  to  get  down  to  the  boat  and  push  her  out,  so 
that  he  had  to  He  for  some  time  half  faint,  floating  about, 
before  he  could  gather  up  the  oars  and  pull  a  little  way 
out  from  the  shore,  —  suppose  that,  while  he  still  could 
move,  he  should  pull  over  to  the  other  rock,  and  climb  up, 


28  ISLA   HERON. 

—  taking  plenty  of  time,  one  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it,— 
and  take  a  last  rest  on  the  red  sorrel.  And, —  if  one  should 
help  oneself  a  little,  seeing  the  end  was  so  near  anyway, 
and  breathing  so  hard  as  it  was, —  why,  then  one  would 
know  just  whether  there  was  any  truth  in  the  story,  and 
if  it  was  the  same  colour.  And  it  was  not  likely  it  would 
be  laid  up  against  a  fellow,  so  tired  as  he  was,  and  not 
good  for  anything  in  this  place. 

These  dreams  floated  through  the  mind  of  the  dying 
man,  as  he  lay  in  his  boat,  sometimes  for  hours  at  a  time, 
in  the  soft  spring  days.  He  always  took  his  lines  and  bait 
with  him,  but  no  one  looked  for  him  to  bring  in  fish.  He 
had  to  keep  away,  that  was  all.  He  could  not  bear  the 
pain  in  his  wife's  eyes ;  he  fancied  she  would  suffer  less 
while  he  was  away  ;  at  least  she  would  not  shiver  every 
time  he  coughed.  She  heard  nothing,  but  each  paroxysm 
shook  her  with  anguish.  Isla  had  never  seen  sickness, 
and  knew  not  what  ailed  her  father,  but  she  grew  anxious, 
and  asked  why  he  did  not  eat,  and  why  he  was  so  thin. 
In  animated  talk  with  her  mother,  hands  flying  too  swift 
for  common  eyes  to  follow,  she  besought  for  new  dishes, 
this  or  that  that  might  tempt  his  palate  ;  she  hunted  the 
young  wintergreen  leaves,  that  he  liked  for  flavouring. 
And  the  dumb  woman  would  nod  and  smile  at  the  child, 
and  would  make  this  dish  or  that,  knowing  it  would  not 
be  tasted. 

•  And  so  the  spring  ran  on  towards  summer,  and  the  sun- 
shine lay  broad  and  strong  over  the  island ;  only  in  one 
spot  the  shadow  still  lay,  and  crept  darker  and  thicker 
every  day. 


SPRING   AND    THE   CHILDREN.  29 

But  little  Jacob  saw  no  shadow,  only  the  light  that 
turned  the  world  to  green  and  gold,  and  made  the  rocks 
grow  hot  to  the  touch.  He  was  a  pretty  little  fellow,  fair- 
haired  and  blue -eyed  like  the  Herons;  he  might  be  eight 
years  old  at  this  time,  and  Isla  twelve.  It  was  pretty  to 
see  the  two  playing  together.  Hand  in  hand  they  strayed 
over  the  Wild  Rocks,  talking  their  silent  talk,  gathering 
berries  or  shells.  It  was  all  their  own,  the  south  end  of 
the  island ;  the  people  of  the  village  near  the  farther  end 
never  came  here.  They  were  superstitious  folk,  and  had 
their  own  ideas  about  the  Wild  Rocks,  and  the  dumb 
woman  who  dwelt  there.  Some  held  it  was  no  mortal  wife 
that  Ciles  Heron  had  brought  home  with  him  those  years 
ago ;  and  they  whispered  that  the  first  Heron  had  been 
banished  for  witchcraft  from  parts  further  south,  before 
he  came  to  our  main,  and  that  he  had  come  to  escape  the 
burning  in  Massachusetts.  Then  he  had  taken  another 
life  and  his  own,  and  was  it  likely  such  a  race  as  that 
would  go  down  peacefully  like  other  folks  ?  So  there 
was  no  one  to  interfere  with  Isla  and  Jacob,  and  they 
could  be  happy  in  their  own  way.  They  had  a  castle  in 
every  rock,  a  watch-tower  in  every  gnarled  and  stunted 
tree.  They  had  playmates,  too,  in  the  wild  sheep  that 
scampered  about  the  rocky  hill -pastures,  leaving  their 
shaggy  fleece  on  bush  and  briar  as  they  ran.  Many  of 
these  sheep  belonged  to  the  people  in  the  fishing  village, 
and  were  caught  once  a  year  and  sheared,  and  let  loose 
again ;  but  some  were  wholly  wild,  and  could  never  be 
caught ;  and  their  fleece  hung  heavy  and  broad,  blackened 


30  ISLA  HERON. 

with  wind  and  weather.  Now  they  knew,  these  sheep, 
that  the  Heron  children  carried  no  shears,  and  that  they 
never  tried  to  drive  a  sheep  except  in  play,  and  for  play 
they  themselves  were  quite  ready.  So  many  a  game  went 
on  in  the  deep,  little,  green  valleys  among  the  Wild  Rocks, 
where  the  buttercups  hide  like  fairy  gold,  and  the  ferns 
curl  and  uncurl  year  by  year,  unbroken  and  uncrushed. 
Jacob  might  ride  on  the  back  of  the  old  black  ram,  the 
leader  of  the  wild  flock,  and  Isla  could  pull  -his  horns,  and 
lead  him  about,  and  dress  him  up  with  flowers,  as  if  he 
were  a  cosset  lamb,  instead  of  a  fierce  old  fellow  who 
would  knock  down  a  tame  sheep  as  soon  as  look  at  him, 
and  whom  no  other  human  being  save  these  two  had  ever 
dared  approach. 

There  were  other  friends,  too.  Sometimes,  as  the  chil- 
dren were  sitting  at  their  play  on  the  rocks,  there  would 
rise,  from  the  ragged  crest  of  an  old  fir -tree  hard  by,  a 
great  black  bird ;  would  hover  an  instant,  uttering  a  hoarse 
croak,  which  yet  had  a  friendly  sound,  as  of  greeting;  then, 
beating  his  broad  wings,  would  sail  out  over  the  water.  A 
second  followed  him,  and  the  two  circled  and  swung 
together  above  the  playing  children,  above  the  waking, 
laughing  sea.  Two  ancient  ravens,  living  apart  from  the 
noisy  crows  and  the  song  -  sparrows.  They  knew  Isla 
Heron  well,  in  their  age-long  wisdom,  and  loved  her  in 
their  way.  She  was  not  of  the  same  mould  as  the  boys 
who  now  and  then  strayed  to  the  south  end  of  the  island, 
half  timid,  half  defiant;  who  called  them  crows,  and  dared 
one  another  to  throw  stones  at  them.  No  stone  was  ever 


SPRING   AND    THE  CHILDREN.  31 

thrown,  however.  There  was  a  story  on  the  island  of  a 
boy  who  had  once  stoned  the  ravens, — these  very  birds,  or 
their  forbears,  and  had  been  set  upon  by  them,  and  driven 
backward,  shrieking,  over  the  verge  of  Black  Head,  to  be 
dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  below.  The  ravens  had 
taken  note  of  this  child  since  her  babyhood,  and  found  her 
ways  much  like  their  own.  Sometimes  they  would  sit  on 
a  rock  near  by  and  watch  her,  with  bright  eyes  cocked 
aside,  as  she  strung  berries  or  shells,  or  plaited  garlands  of 
seaweed.  Once  or  twice  they  had  brushed  her  hair,  float- 
ing past  on  outspread  wing;  and  she  rightly  interpreted 
this  as  a  token  of  friendship. 

"  You  might  tame  them,"  her  father  said  when  she 
told  him.  "  Ravens  are  easy  tamed ;  I  read  a  book  once 
about  one." 

"  They  would  not  like  me  any  more  if  I  did,"  said  Isla. 
"  1  should  hate  any  one  who  tried  to  tame  me."  And  Giles 
laughed,  and  thought  it  would  be  no  easy  task. 

Other  moods  and  hours  took  the  children  down  to  the 
shore ;  this  was  especially  their  delight  in  the  morning, 
when  the  simple  housework  was  done,  and  the  mother  sat 
at  the  spinning  by  the  door  (for  wherever  she  came  from, 
she  brought  her  wheel  with  her,  and  was  a  thrifty,  hard- 
working housewife),  and  the  father  out  in  his  boat. 

Their  bathing -place  was  such  as  no  king  ever  had. 
Among  the  rocks  by  the  water's  edge  was  one  of  enor- 
mous size  and  strange  form.  One  might  think  that  some 
mammoth  of  forgotten  ages  had  been  overtaken  by  the 
tide  as  he  lay  asleep ;  had  slept  into  death,  and  so  turned 


32  ISLA   HERON. 

to  stone.  Seen  from  a  distance,  he  looked  all  smooth 
and  gray;  but,  when  one  came  to  climb  his  vast  flanks 
they  were  rent  and  seamed  and  scarred,  and  by  his  shoul- 
der there  was  tough  climbing  enough.  Near  by,  a  huge, 
formless  mass  of  rock  had  fallen  off  into  the  sea,  and  be- 
tween this  and  the  side  of  the  sleeping  monster  was  a  pool 
of  clear  shining  water.  Brown  tresses  of  rockweed,  long 
ribbons  of  kelp,  swung  gently  to  and  fro;  sprays  of  emer- 
ald green  floated  through  the  water ;  the  rocks  could  be 
seen  at  the  bottom,  and  they  were  green  and  crimson,  with 
here  and  there  fringes  of  delicate  rose-colour.  In  and  out 
among  the  rockweed  darted  brown  shrimps  and  tiny  fish  ; 
on  the  rocks  the  barnacles  opened,  waved  a  plume  of  fairy 
feathers,  and  closed  again. 

Here  the  children  came  to  bathe,  swimming  about  as 
free  and  gracefully  as  the  fishes  that  hardly  feared  them, 
or  lying  at  length  in  the  shallows  that  stretched  gold  and 
crystal  in  the  sun,  caressed  by  soft  fingers,  swept  by  long, 
brown  tresses  ;  only  weeds,  were  they  ?  who  could  tell  ? 

Isla  loved  to  lie  so,  in  the  summer  heat,  when  the  water 
seemed  warm  to  her  hardy  limbs,  though  a  landsman 
might  still  think  it  cold.  She  would  tether  little  Jacob  to 
a  rock  with  a  long  kelp -ribbon,  and  he  would  play  con- 
tentedly at  being  a  horse,  that  creature  he  had  never  seen 
save  in  a  picture.  There  arc  no  horses  on  the  Island  of 
the  Wild  Rocks. 

There  the  girl  would  float  and  dream,  her  body  at  rest, 
her  mind  out  and  away  with  the  clouds,  or  the  sea-gulls 
that  hovered  and  wheeled  above  the  blue  sparkling  water, 


SPRING   AND    THE   CHILDREN.  33 

till  there  came  a  low  murmur  on  the  outer  reef,  a  white 
break  against  the  seaward  side  of  the  rock,  and  she  knew 
that  the  tide  was  rising.  Then,  taking  the  child  by  the 
hand,  she  would  leave  the  water,  and  climb  up  to  a  great 
boulder,  where  the  barnacles  lay  dry  in  the  sun.  Only  the 
great  spring  tides  came  here;  and  she  would  lie  on  the 
warm  rock,  one  hand  supporting  her  chin,  the  other  hold- 
ing Jacob's  hand,  and  watch  the  ancient  miracle  that  was 
always  new. 

With  a  swing  and  a  swirl  the  waters  rushed  into  their 
pool  of  peace ;  the  foam  sprang  high,  then  fell,  and  crept 
up  the  rock,  up,  up.  Now  back,  strongly,  with  a  wrench 
that  tugged  at  the  streaming  locks,  scattering  them  loose, 
unrolling  the  kelp-ribbons  to  their  utmost  length.  It  was 
gone,  and  for  an  instant  there  was  stillness  again ;  then 
once  more  came  the  roar,  the  inward  rush,  the  snowy 
column  tossed  aloft,  the  white  seeking  hands  creeping  up 
along  the  rock,  till  now  all  the  water  was  a  white  churn 
of  foam,  all  the  air  was  filled  with  driving  spray,  and  the 
reef  thundered  with  wild  artillery.  The  seas  hove  bodily 
over  it,  and  broke  only  in  the  cove  itself ;  the  place  where 
the  children  had  paused  and  lingered  in  their  upward 
climb  now  boiled  like  a  pot,  and  even  on  the  top 
of  the  great  boulder  the  spray  beat  in  their  faces, 
stinging,  burning.  A  black  wing  struck  athwart  the  white 
smoke,  and  a  raven  floated  past  on  the  wind,  one  eye  cast 
aside  on  the  children.  Isla  cried  out  with  glee,  and  shook 
her  wet  hair,  and  broke  into  a  chant,  such  as  she  loved 
to  croon  to  the  wind ;  but  Jacob  was  timid,  and  did  not 


34  ISLA   HERON. 

like  the  spray  in  his  face,  and,  though  he  heard  no  sound, 
shivered  at  every  vibration  of  the  rock  as  the  seas  dashed 
themselves  at  it ;  he  pulled  his  sister's  hand,  and  begged 
to  be  gone  ;  so  home  they  went  over  the  mammoth's  back, 
and  left  the  raven  to  his  own. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SCARLET    SOEEEL. 

AND  now  June  was  come,  and  Giles  Heron  still  lived. 
He  had  watched  passionately  for  the  blossoming  of 
the  scarlet  sorrel.  "  That  '11  be  my  time ! "  he  said,  talking 
to  himself  as  he  lay  rocking  in  his  boat.  "  I  've  got  to  wait 
till  then.  Some  person  seems  to  hold  me  back  from  help- 
ing myself  before  then  ;  maybe  I  've  got  to  know  what 
it 's  like  all  along  the  line ;  maybe  it  '11  be  some  help  to 
some  one  over  yonder,  and  I  hope  it  may,  for  it 's  small 
comfort  to  me.  Like  as  if  my  mother  held  me  back. 
But,  when  the  sorrel  is  red,  I  guess  they  '11  give  me  my 
pass  ;  they  'd  be  hard  folks  if  they  would  n't.  And  the 
sooner  over  for  Mary  and  the  children ;  poor  Mary,  she  '11 
burn  right  up  and  come  along,  too,  most  likely." 

And  now,  at  last,  the  sorrel  was  in  bloom.  It  clothed 
the  dark-gray  rock  like  a  holiday  garment ;  it  flamed  in 
the  sunlight ;  when  the  sky  was  overcast  it  took  a  darker 
shade.  Certainly,  it  had  the  colour  of  blood  ;  or  was  it 
still  a  little  lighter  ? 

One  morning  Giles  kissed  his  wife  and  children  before 
he  went  down  to  the  shore  ;  he  held  Isla  in  his  arms  for  a 


36  ISLA   HERON. 

moment  with  a  wistful  look,  as  if  he  would  have  spoken  ; 
but  at  last  he  nodded,  and  went  his  usual  way.  Isla 
looked  after  him  with  a  vague  pain,  she  knew  not  what ; 
but  her  mother  gave  a  dreadful  sob,  pressed  her  hands 
together,  and  then  flung  them  apart,  with  a  gesture  of 
almost  savage  anguish.  Isla  would  have  tried  to  comfort 
her,  but  the  dumb  woman  would  not  meet  her  eyes,  and 
turned  away  to  her  work,  and  worked  all  the  morning  as 
one  works  in  a  fever-dream. 

Life  was  ebbing  very  low  for  Giles.  Slowly,  slowly,  he 
crawled  down  to  the  beach  ;  it  was  only  a  few  paces  from 
the  cabin,  but  a  corner,  rounded,  took  him  out  of  sight, 
and  he  had  of  late  sternly  forbidden  the  children  to  come 
with  him  even  as  far  as  the  corner.  Till  he  passed  it  he 
made  some  poor  pretence  of  holding  his  head  up,  and 
walking  straight ;  but,  once  round  that  friendly  rock,  he 
could  cling  to  it,  and  drag  his  tired  body  along,  and  make 
no  one  wince  but  himself. 

The  boat  was  ready  ;  good  old  boat !  she  would  miss 
him,  he  thought.  He  fell  across  the  thwart,  and  lay  there 
dozing  for  a  time;  then  crept  to  a  sitting  posture,  and, 
with  short,  faltering  strokes,  pulled  himself  across  to 
Toluma.  The  distance  was  small,  but  once  there  he  must 
lie  down  again  in  the  boat,  at  the  foot  of  the  towering 
cliff,  and  wait  painfully  till  the  faint  breath  should  come 
back  to  him.  One  last  effort,  now,  and  then  —  rest ! 

Could  he  do  it  ?  Had  he  rowed  so  far,  miles  and  miles, 
for  nothing?  His  slight,  worn  body  seemed  a  mass  of 
lead,  his  hands  and  feet  were  turned  to  water,  as  he 


THE   SCARLET  SORREL.  37 

climbed  up,  wearily,  wearily.  Many  times  he  paused, 
clutching  the  naked  stone,  while  he  struggled  for  breath, 
racked  by  the  terrible  cough.  Once  his  grasp  loosened, 
and  he  had  almost  fallen,  and  felt  already  the  shock  on 
the  reef  below  ;  but  something  drifted  through  his  mind  — 
a  saying  of  his  father's,  was  it  ?  "  Hold  on,  Heron !  a 
good  bird  and  a  rare  un ! "  His  muscles  crisped  again, 
the  mist  lifted  a  little  from  his  eyes,  and  he  climbed  on ;  till 
now  the  top  was  reached,  and  the  scarlet  upland  which 
his  eyes  had  sought  so  yearningly  these  many  weeks. 
With  a  long,  sighing  breath  the  tired  man  laid  himself 
at  full  length  on  the  glowing  sod.  He  felt  life  go  from 
him  with  that  breath  ;  the  rest  was  mere  detail. 

He  lay  still,  looking  now  across  at  the  main  island,  now 
down  and  around  him.  A  few  paces  away  the  rock  broke 
sheer  off,  two  hundred  feet  down  to  the  water,  that  danced 
and  dimpled  in  the  sun.  Between  the  highest  crest  of  the 
rock  and  the  sorrel  -  meadow  where  he  lay  was  a  tiny  hol- 
low brimming  over  with  white  violets,  the  scentless  kind 
that  blossom  as  late  as  June  here.  Heron  looked  at  them 
and  smiled,  as  bits  of  a  nursery  tale  came  back  to  the  con- 
fusion of  his  mind. 

"  White  as  snow,  red  as  blood,  —  what  a  pity  the  ravens 
never  come  over  here !  The  rock  is  all  gray  and  orange, 
no  black." 

He  dozed  a  little;  then  repeated  drowsily,  "Red  as 
blood !  only  blood  is  a  little  darker,  I  think.  Maybe 't 
has  faded  out,  all  these  years.  Anyway,  I  shall  be  able 
to  see." 


38  ISLA   HERON. 

The  light  seemed  dim,  though  he  felt  the  sun  striking 
fiercely  on  his  head  and  shoulders.  He  pulled  the  scarlet 
sorrel  blossoms,  and  let  a  stream  of  them  run  slowly 
through  his  hand.  Yes,  darker,  surely. 

He  had  forgotten  by  this  time  about  Isla,  about  his  wife 
and  little  Jacob,  and  all  his  doubts  and  fears.  He  seemed 
a  boy  again,  only  curiously  weak,  and  with  all  sorts  of 
creatures, — bees,  were  they? — buzzing  about  his  head, — 
or  inside  it ;  he  was  not  sure,  and  it  did  not  matter. 

The  knife,  now !  he  was  tired,  and  rest  was  very  near ; 
and  he  did  not  think  it  would  be  laid  up  against  him. 
Something  in  his  head  said  it  was  cowardly,  but  he  ex- 
plained that  it  was  only  his  body,  that  could  not  get  about 
any  longer,  and  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  let  the  folks 
see  him  die,  because  that  would  make  them  feel  badly.  He 
drew  out  the  long,  sharp  knife,  and  made  the  light  play 
along  the  blade,  as  he  always  loved  to  do  at  school,  and 
smiled  to  himself. 

"  The  same  dear  old  Giles ! "  he  said.  "  Good:by,  old 
fellow,  if  we  don't  meet  again ! " 

He  felt  above  his  heart;  this  was  where  it  should  be. 
One  stroke,  now  for  rest  and  freedom  — 

What  was  that  ?  What  sound  broke  the  stillness  ?  A 
voice  ?  Far  away,  faint  yet  clear,  ringing  sweet  round  the 
gray  rock : 

"  Giles !     Father  Giles  !  where  are  you,  father  ?  " 

Giles  Heron  gathered  his  wasted  muscles  together,  and 
with  a  last  effort  threw  the  knife  from  him ;  it  glittered 
a  moment,  unstained,  in  the  sun ;  then  dropped  without 


THE  SCARLET  SORREL.  39 

sound,  and  the  red  blossoms  closed  over  it.  He  raised 
himself  and  tried  to  answer  the  call,  but  his  voice  was 
choked.  The  day  turned  black,  and,  as  he  sank  down,  the 
blood  burst  from  his  mouth  and  streamed  out  over  the 
scarlet  sorrel.  Yes,  it  was  darker. 


CHAPTER  V. 
"LONE,  LONE,  THOU  HAST  LEFT  ME  HERE." 

HERE  begins  the  true  story  of  Isla  Heron's  life.  She 
had  been  a  simple  creature  till  now,  living  the  life 
of  half -savage  freedom  that  was  the  only  life  she  knew, 
playing  among  the  black  rocks,  singing  with  the  wind  and 
the  sea,  loving  her  parents  and  her  little  Jacob  almost 
fiercely.  Her  thinking  life  began  when  her  father  was 
brought  back  to  the  home-cabin,  cold  and  silent,  and  laid 
on  his  bed  by  the  pitying  villagers.  One  man  came  first, 
bringing  the  bad  news;  it  was  Joe  Brazybone.  He  had 
been  hovering  about  in  his  boat,  as  he  often  did,  fishing 
now  and  then,  but  keeping  an  eye  on  Giles ;  had  not  dared 
to  follow  him  up  the  rocks,  for  Giles  had  been  strange  for 
a  long  time  now,  and  had  kept  off  the  old  friend ;  but  after  a 
time  Joe  grew  alarmed,  and  climbed  up,  and  found  him 
already  cold.  He  came  now,  and  tried  in  some  awkward 
fashion  to  break  the  news.  Isla  took  little  note  of  the 
strange  figure  at  the  time,  though  she  knew  it  well  enough 
afterward. 

"  Giles  ain't  very  well,"  said  Joe,  edging  round  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

"  You  tell  your  ma  that,  little  Heron  lady,  and  I  '11  keep 
out  o'  sight,  for  she  don't  like  old  Joe,  your  ma  don't. 


"LONE,  LONE,  THOU  HAST  LEFT  ME  HERE."    41 

You  tell  her  Giles  ain't  very  well.  And  —  see  here,  little 
lady!  When  you've  a -told  her  that,  f  oiler  it  up,  you 
know !  foller  it  up !  tell  her  he  's  bad,  and  then,  kind  o' 
easy,  tell  her  he  's  mortal  bad,  and  they  're  fetchin'  of  him 
home." 

Here  he  broke  off  short,  with  a  glance  behind  him ;  and 
thrusting  the  child  gently  forward,  with  an  earnest  ges- 
ture, he  slunk  out  of  sight  as  Mary  Heron  came  to  the  door. 
Next  moment  the  men  were  there. 

They  spoke  in  whispers,  and  cast  strange  glances  at  the 
dumb  woman,  with  her  gray  face  and  wild  eyes  of  pain. 
There  was  no  surprise  for  her ;  it  was  only  the  Thing  that 
lurked  so  long  in  corners  of  her  hut,  now  come  out  into 
the  light  and  known  for  what  it  was.  A  kind,  white- 
haired  fisherman  stayed  behind  the  rest,  who  were  in 
haste  to  be  gone ;  he  spoke  gently  to  Isla,  and  she  inter- 
preted his  words  to  her  mother.  There  was  no  minister 
on  the  island  at  that  time,  but  Captain  Maynard  was  used 
to  filling  the  place  of  one,  and  the  simple  arrangements 
were  made  for  saying  a  prayer  and  laying  the  tired  body 
to  rest. 

When  the  stranger  was  gone,  Isla  went  to  the  bed  and 
put  her  face  down  by  her  father's.  She  called  him,  put- 
ting forth  all  the  power  of  her  strong  young  voice ;  it 
seemed  as  if  he  must  hear  her.  But  he  gave  no  sign,  and 
the  lids  lay  white  and  heavy  over  his  eyes,  and  when  she 
touched  his  cheek  it  was  cold,  cold.  She  looked  at  little 
Jacob,  playing  with  his  shells  on  the  floor;  then  at  her 
mother.  But  there  was  no  mother  now,  only  the  wife  who 


42  I8LA   HERON. 

had  seen  her  child  loved  better  than  herself,  and  who 
would  now  guard  her  sorrow  jealously,  admitting  no  sharer 
in  it ;  and  Isla  knew  that  she  was  alone. 

She  made  no  resistance  when,  after  days  of  brooding, 
the  dumb  woman  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  over 
the  rocks,  across  the  brown  hill-pastures,  to  the  village 
school.  A  little  gray  building  stood  apart  on  a  stony  hill, 
and  here  the  children  were  taught  by  a  young  woman  who 
came  over  from  the  main  for  certain  months  of  the  year. 

Standing  in  the  doorway,  Mary  Heron  beckoned  to  the 
school  -  mistress,  who  came  trembling,  afraid  of  the  tall, 
gipsy  figure  and  the  burning  eyes  ;  laid  the  child's  hand 
in  hers,  and,  with  a  gesture  of  grave  dignity,  turned  away. 
Isla,  standing  with  her  hand  still  in  the  teacher's,  watched 
the  stately  woman  as  she  took  her  way  down  the  hill  and 
back  through  the  crooked  street ;  her  heart  yearned  to  her 
mother,  but  Mary  Heron  never  looked  back,  and  soon 
passed  out  of  sight. 

The  young  teacher  was  kind,  and  her  fear  of  the  wild 
girl  soon  wore  away  when  she  found  her  readiness  to 
learn.  Isla  pounced  upon  the  simple  school-books  and 
studied  them  fiercely.  The  children  kept  their  dread  of 
her  longer,  and  huddled  together  in  the  play-hour,  looking 
askance  at  her  long  russet  locks,  like  tawny  rockweed,  arid 
her  dusky,  jewel-like  eyes.  She  had  no  beauty  according 
to  their  standard  (which  was  pink  and  white,  and  had 
yellow  curls),  but  all  the  remoteness  of  her  sea-bound 
home  was  in  her  face  and  look.  Her  dress  was  strange, 
too,  for  the  homely  brown  print  was  sure  to  be  looped  and 


"LONE,  LONE,  THOU  HAST  LEFT  ME  HEBE."    45 

decked  with  fringes  of  kelp  and  weed,  and  she  had  long 
strings  of  shells,  sometimes  bound  round  her  head,  some- 
times twined  about  her  wrists. 

Soon,  however,  the  children  learned  to  love  her,  for  her 
heart  was  gentle,  and  she  loved  all  little  creatures.  She 
brought  them  sea-urchin  shells,  delicately  cleaned,  and 
showing  all  their  beauty  of  green  and  pale  purple  ;  chains 
of  gold-shells,  or  of  dried  sea-bladders.  The  children  took 
the  gifts  eagerly,  and  at  length  grew  familiar,  and  ques- 
tioned Isla  about  her  life  at  the  south  end  of  the  island. 

"  What  makes  you  live  there,  Isla  ?  Why  don't  you 
never  come  up  to  the  street,  and  live  in  a  house  like  other 
folks  ?  My  mother  says  decent  folks  would  n't  live  there 
in  those  bogy  rocks.  What  makes  you  stay  there  ?  " 

Then  Isla  would  throw  her  head  back,  and  draw  a  long 
breath  as  she  looked  about  her  at  the  bare,  dingy  walls  of 
the  little  schoolroom. 

"  It  is  n't  living,  here  !  "  she  would  say.  "  It 's  —  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  !  there  's  no  air  to  breathe.  Where 
I  live,  the  wind  blows  in  from  the  sea,  and  it  comes  from 
all  across  the  world  ;  and  I  don't  have  to  be  under  a  roof, 
—  I  hate  roofs,  —  only  just  at  night  and  in  the  winter ; 
and  I  have  the  rocks,  and  the  sheep,  and  my  little  Jacob, 
and  all  the  things  in  the  woods.  Don't  you  go  in  the 
woods  ?  But  what  makes  you  live  here,  in  these  houses 
all  near  each  other  ?  That 's  the  strange  way,  not  mine  ; 
mine  is  the"  real  way.  What  makes  you  do  it  ? " 

"  'Cause  it 's  near  the  boats  !  "  said  one. 

"  'Cause  the  school 's  here,  and  the  store  !  "  said  another. 


46  1SLA  HERON. 

"  'Cause  there  's  folks,  and  folks  like  to  be  where  there 's 
other  folks ! "  said  a  third  ;  and  the  rest  chimed  in,  as 
this  sentiment  voiced  the  feelings  of  all. 

"  Yes,  folks  like  to  be  where  there  's  other  folks." 

Then  Isla  would  shake  her  long  locks,  and  laugh,  and 
begin  to  sing  one  of  her  strange  songs,  or  tell  them  of  the 
wonderful  things  in  her  home,  which  stretched  miles  and 
miles,  all  her  own,  all  a  playground  for  her  and  Jacob. 

So  things  went  on  well  enough  for  a  time  ;  but  one  day 
Isla  took  some  of  the  children  off,  at  their  urgent  request, 
and  kept  them  a  day  and  a  night  in  some  familiar  haunt 
of  hers  among  the  hills.  Their  parents  were  frantic,  and 
searching  parties  were  sent  out  in  all  directions.  The 
dumb  woman  could  or  would  tell  them  nothing ;  she  only 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  showed  them  that  her  own 
little  boy  was  gone  with  his  sister  and  the  rest.  They 
were  ready  to  burn  her  cabin  over  her  head,  when  down 
the  hill  came  Isla  singing,  a  child  in  either  hand,  another 
leaping  and  singing  beside  her.  She  was  seized,  threat- 
ened with  punishment,  and  warned  never  to  come  to  the 
school  again. 

The  little  teacher  sighed  for  her  best  scholar,  the  only 
one  who  had  made  teaching  anything  but  drudgery ;  the 
children  looked  longingly  for  the  wild  girl  who  spoke  so 
kindly,  and  sang  so  sweetly,  and  told  them  such  beautiful 
stories;  but  Isla  came  no  more.  Only  the  boldest  of 
the  children,  venturing  rarely  a  little  way  down  the  beach 
toward  the  south  end,  would  hear  her  song,  echoing  clear 
and  sweet  among  the  Wild  Rocks. 


'LONE,  LONE,  THOU  HAST  LEFT  ME  HEBE."        47 
ISLA'S    SONG. 

The  wind  sang  to  the  falling  tide, 

"  Coo  sha  coo  !  coo  sha  coo  ! 
Now  I  fold  my  wings  wide, 

Coo  sha  coo  sha  coo  ! 
Sleep  beneath  the  folded  wing, 
Dream  and  murmur  while  I  sing, 

Coo  sha  coo  sha  coo  sha ! 

Coo  sha  coo  sha  coo !  " 

The  wind  sang  to  the  rising  sea, 

"  U  la  hu  !  u  la  hu  ! 
Come  and  fly  abi'oad  with  me, 

U  la  hu  la  hu ! 

Toss  your  hair  so  wild  and  gray, 
Beat  the  rocks  with  hands  of  spray, 

U  la  hu  la  hu  la ! 

U  la  hu  la  hu  !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    NEW   TEACHING. 

AND  now,  this  Sunday  morning,  Isla  stood  on  the 
rocks,  and  looked  at  the  young  preacher,  as  she  came 
toward  her. 

"  Good  morning !  "  said  the  preacher,  feeling  curiously 
embarrassed  under  the  quiet,  straightforward  gaze  of  the 
island  girl.  "  I  saw  you  at  the  service  this  morning ;  but 
I  missed  you  when  it  was  over,  and  your  friend  here  guided 
me  to  you."  She  turned  to  look  at  Joe,  but  he  had  disap- 
peared. 

"  Yes,"  said  Isla  Heron,  "  I  was  there.  I  was  coming  to 
look  for  you,  too.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  something  you 
said  was  true." 

The  preacher  smiled.  "  I  hope  I  said  nothing  that  was 
untrue,"  she  said. 

Isla  looked  up  with  a  startled  glance.  "  Oh,  yes ! "  she 
said.  "  Things  that  are  not  true  here,  anyhow.  I  don't 
know  how  it  may  be  over  on  the  main.  But  —  what  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  —  you  read  something  from  the  Bible, 
— '  The  tongue  of  the  dumb  shall  sing.'  What  did  you 
mean  by  that?" 

The  preacher  repeated,  slowly,  that  she  might  have  time 
to  think  a  little. 


THE    NEW   TEACHING.  49 

" '  Then  shall  the  lame  man  leap  as  a  hart,  and  the 
tongue  of  the  dumb  sing.'  Yes,  that  is  a  beautiful  pas- 
sage ;  you  will  find  it  in  Isaiah,  the  thirty-fifth  chapter." 

"But  is  it  true?"  Isla  persisted.  "Did  they  do  it 
then,  or  can  they  do  it  now?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  the  preacher  said,  gently. 
"  It  is  a  prophecy  of  the  flourishing  of  Christ's  kingdom." 

"  Will  he  make  dumb  people  speak  ?  that  is  all  I  want 
to  know,"  said  Isla.  "My  little  brother  is  dumb,  and  I 
would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  make  him  speak.  If 
that  is  true,  tell  me  how  it  is  done." 

The  preacher  looked  at  her  very  tenderly. 

"  Let  us  sit  down  here,  my  dear,"  she  said ;  "  and  tell  me 
about  your  little  brother." 

They  sat  down  on  a  warm  brown  stone,  and  Isla  told 
the  story  of  her  little  Jacob ;  of  her  father's  death  two  years 
before,  and  of  her  mother's  fading  away  through  the  year, 
and  following  him  before  another  spring  came. 

"  So  now  there  are  just  the  two  of  us,"  she  said.  "  Just 
me  and  my  little  Jacob.  And  if  I  could  make  him  hear 
and  speak,  I  would  be  willing  to  die  myself." 

"  He  can  never  hear ! "  the  preacher  said.  "  These  are 
not  the  days  of  miracles,  and  we  have  no  assurance  that 
we  may  look  for  them,  though  signs  and  wonders  are  all 
about  us.  But  truly  a  wonder  has  been  wrought  in  these 
very  days;  and  it  may  be  that  the  child  can  be  taught 
to  speak,  and  to  read  by  the  lips  what  others  say  to  him." 

She  told  Isla,  in  a  few  words,  of  the  new  teaching  of  the 
deaf,  and  the  girl  listened  with  her  whole  soul. 


50  ISLA   HERON. 

"  Where  is  it  done  ? "  she  asked.  "  Tell  me  the  name  of 
the  place ! " 

The  preacher  named  Bellton  as  the  nearest  city  where 
such  teaching  could  be  had.  "  Have  you  friends  there  ?  " 
she  asked. 

Isla's  startled  eyes  gave  her  answer.  "  Bellton ! "  she 
said.  "  That  was  a  place  Giles  showed  me  on  the  sand, 
where  the  people  lived  in  prisons,  and  liked  it,  and  turned 
white  for  want  of  sun.  I  should  have  to  go  there,  should 
I,  and  take  my  little  Jacob  ?  Could  a  person  live  there, 
do  you  think,  who  was  not  used  to  it?" 

"  I  was  there  for  two  or  three  years,"  said  the  preacher. 
"I  lived  well  enough,  Isla.  Have  you  never  been  away 
from  your  island?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  No !  why  should  I  go  ?  I  never  would  go,  except  to 
help  my  little  Jacob.  It  would  kill  me  to  live  under  a 
roof,  and  breathe  hot  air,  and  have  no  wind  blowing,  and 
no  sea." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ? "  asked  the  preacher.  "  You 
cannot  spend  the  year  out-of-doors,  in  this  cold  place." 

"  Come  and  see ! "  said  Isla  Heron. 

She  led  the  preacher  over  the  gray  rocks,  over  the  high 
downs,  till  they  came  to  the  little  green  meadow,  set  like  a 
jewel  in  a  great  ring  of  stones. 

Here  was  the  cabin,  looking  from  the  outside  not  unlike 
the  rock  against  which  it  leaned.  Inside,  it  was  gay  with 
shells  and  bright  berries,  and  everything  was  neat  and 
clean,  as  Mary  Heron  had  taught  her  children  to  keep  it. 


THE  NEW   TEACHING.  51 

Jacob  was  sitting  by  the  table,  carving  a  boat,  and  at  Isla's 
coming  he  rose,  clapping  his  hands,  and  ran  to  throw  his 
arms  round  her  neck  ;  but  drew  back  in  alarm  at  sight  of 
the  stranger.  The  girl  spoke  to  him  with  eyes  and  hands, 
and  led  him  forward,  still  hanging  back,  but  smiling  now, 
and  ready  to  make  friends.  He  was  nearly  ten  years  old, 
but  so  small  and  delicate  that  he  looked  much  younger. 
His  face  was  all  sunshine,  but  there  was  no  line  of  thought 
in  it  yet ;  he  had  never  had  to  think  for  himself.  Isla  had 
done  all  his  thinking,  and  he  had  lived  like  a  bird  so  far, 
taking  everything  at  her  hands,  rejoicing  in  the  sunshine, 
and  the  sea,  and  the  shells  and  flowers.  H»  knew  nothing 
beyond  his  own  end  of  the  island.  Isla  was  a  great  trav- 
eller in  his  eyes,  because  she  sometimes  went  to  the  vil- 
lage, and  was  gone  for  hours.  This  never  made  him  sad, 
because  he  did  not  know  what  sadness  was ;  but  he  had  a 
pride  in  his  sister's  journeyings,  and  looked  eagerly  in  her 
face  when  she  came  back,  seeking  new  light  there,  since 
she  was  so  wise  always,  and  probably  learned  new  wisdom 
every  time  she  went  away. 

The  preacher  caressed  the  child,  and  sat  for  a  few 
moments  in  the  little  sitting-room,  her  mind  full  of  new- 
thoughts. 

"  You  live  here  entirely  alone  ?  "  she  asked,  presently ; 
«  you  two  children  ?  Are  you  happy,  Isla  ?  Is  it  not  terri- 
bly lonely  ? " 

Isla  looked  up  wondering. 

"  How  should  it  be  lonely  ? "  she  said.  "  It  is  home. 
It  is  the  only  place  where  we  could  live.  Some  people 


52  ISLA  HURON. 

wanted  us  to  come  and  live  in  the  village,  after  mother 
died.  We  'd  sooner  have  died,  too,  both  of  us.  Would  n't 
we,  Jacob  ? " 

"Is  there  no  one  belonging  to  you?  it  seems  too — 

"Too  dreadful,"  the  preacher  would  have  said,  but 
something  seemed  to  hold  back  the  words.  Perhaps  it 
was  the  perfect  quiet  in  the  two  faces. 

"  Of  course  I  miss  Giles,  all  the  time,"  Isla  went  on, 
presently.  "  But  he  was  so  tired,  poor  dear,  that  he  could 
not  stay  any  longer." 

"  And  your  mother  ? "  said  the  preacher,  with  some  re- 
proach in  her  tone.  "  Do  you  not  miss  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Jacob  did !  "  said  Isla.  "  Or  he  would  have,  at  first,  if 
I  had  let  him.  But  mother, — oh,  you  could  not  have  kept 
her.  She  hated  it  so,  after  Giles  was  gone,  she  had  to 
go,  too.  No,  we  are  much  better  off  without  mother ;  she 
could  not  bear  me  after  Giles  went,  and  hardly  she  could 
bear  Jacob ;  and  she  tried  so  hard  to  die,  I  was  glad  when 
she  could.  She  was  dumb,  too,  you  know,  and  now  she 
is  n't,  I  suppose." 

This  was  strange  talk.  The  preacher  felt  that  she 
should  reprove  and  exhort,  but  still  the  girl's  face  si- 
lenced her. 

"Tell  me,  Isla,"  she  said,  after  a  silence,  "what  did 
you  mean,  when  you  said,  a  little  while  ago,  that  I  had 
said  some  things  that  were  not  true.  You  did  not  mean 
that,  I  am  sure." 

Isla  reflected. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said.     "  Oh,  surely   I  meant  it.     You 


THE  NEW  TEACHING.  53 

spoke  of  Him,"  —  she  nodded  upward  with  her  curious 
reverent  gesture, — "you  said  He  was  our  Father;  I  liked 
that.  Giles  knew  a  little,  but  he  did  not  know  that  much, 
then.  Now  I  suppose  he  does.  But  then  you  said  that  if 
we  did  things, — I  don't  remember  what  things, — that  He 
would  be  angry  with  us  always,  and  never  love  us  any 
more,  and  that  we  should  be  punished  all  the  time,  for- 
ever. And  that  could  not  be  true,  because  it  is  nonsense." 

The  preacher  was  startled,  and  spoke  sharply. 

"You  are  not  speaking  in  a  proper  manner!"  she  said. 
"  What  right  have  you  to  speak  so  to  me  ?  " 

"  You  asked  me ! "  said  Isla.  "  What  did  you  want  me 
to  say?" 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  time. 

"Why  do  you  think  this?"  said  the  preacher  then. 
"What  can  you  know  about  these  things,  living  here 
with  no  teaching  and  no  light  save  that  of  your  own 
heart,  which  is  sinful  ?  " 

Isla  laughed. 

"  I  had  a  father !  "  she  said.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  Great 
One  needed  Giles  to  tell  Him  how  to  treat  His  children  ?" 

"  What  can  I  know  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  I  know  what  the 
sea  tells  me  all  day,  all  my  life ;  and  what  the  clouds  tell 
me,  and  the  birds ;  but  most  of  all  I  know  what  my  little 
Jacob  tells  me.  Look  at  him  !  Is  he  sinful  ?  If  you  say 
that,  then  I  see  that  you  do  not  know.  But  my  sea  knows, 
and  it  tells  me,  all  day  long.  All  day  long !  "  the  girl  re- 
peated ;  and  her  eyes  grew  soft  and  dreamy  as  she  gazed 
out  over  the  blue,  white  -  tossing  water.  The  preacher 


54  ISLA  HERON. 

would  have  answered,  for  she  was  shocked  and  pained  at 
this  unseemly  talk ;  but  suddenly  some  words  came  to  her 
mind,  and  silenced  her. 

"Deep  answereth  unto  deep — " 

"  I  must  go ! "  she  said,  rising.  "  I  should  like  to  see 
you  again,  Isla,  and  talk  with  you ;  your — your  thoughts 
are  strange  to  me,  but  I  feel  that  your  heart  is  good.  I 
must  go  now  back  to  the  village."  She  kissed  the  little 
boy,  who  cooed  and  smiled  in  return,  and  turned  to  find 
her  way  back  to  the  village ;  but  Isla  was  at  her  side. 

"  Let  me  take  you  by  a  shorter  way,"  she  said.  "  It  is 
slow  climbing  over  our  rocks  when  folks  are  not  used  to 
them.  I  will  take  you  through  the  Dead  Valley,  and  you 
will  get  there  quicker.  But  you  will  not  tell  people  ? "  she 
said,  stopping  for  a  moment,  and  looking  up  into  her  com- 
panion's face  with  searching  eyes.  "  It  is  our  own  place, 
Jacob's*  and  mine ;  we  don't  want  other  folks  to  know 
about  it." 

The  preacher  promised. 

"  Shut  your  eyes,  then ! "  cried  the  girl,  her  face  light- 
ening with  pleasure.  "  Give  me  your  hand,  and  I  will  lead 
you  into  our  Dead  Valley.  Now !  now  open  your  eyes, 
and  look ! " 

The  preacher  obeyed,  and  gave  a  cry  of  surprise,  so 
strange  a  place  was  this  that  met  her  eyes.  A  valley  of 
rocks;  yes!  but  not  rocks  like  those  she  had  seen  else- 
where, not  like  any  rocks  that  she  had  seen  in  her  life. 
A  place  of  desolation,  full  of  the  bones  of  forgotten  ages. 
The  girl,  watching  her  companion's  face,  laughed  aloud  for 
pleasure. 


THE  NEW  TEACHING.  55 

«  Do  you  see  ? "  she  cried.  "  Do  you  see  why  it  is  the 
Dead  Valley  ?  Look  at  them  all,  the  great  beasts,  lying 
asleep!  Giles  told  me  all  about  them,  when  we  first 
found  this  place;  we  came  together,  Giles  and  I.  He 
said,  'They  are  mammoths,  like  elephants,  only  bigger;' 
and  he  had  seen  the  bones  of  one,  somewhere,  in  some 
place  where  they  keep  such  things,  so  he  knew  their  names 
and  all.  And  see !  They  used  to  play  here,  and  go  down 
to  the  water  to  bathe,  and  just  live  as  they  liked.  And 
one  day,  —  we  played  they  had  done  some  dreadful  thing, 
but  we  never  knew  just  what, — they  were  all  turned  into 
gray  stones,  and  here  they  have  been  ever  since.  There! 
that  is  one  of  the  biggest ;  and  he  fell  down  on  his  side, 
you  see,  and  just  curled  his  great  huge  legs  under  him, 
and  went  to  sleep  so  comfortable  !  And  this  one,  —  oh,  I 
love  this  old  fellow.  He  was  kneeling,  don't  you  see, 
preacher  ?  and  he  could  not  get  up  when  the  time  came, 
so  he  went  to  sleep  just  that  way.  And  down  there  by 
the  beach,  that  one  had  gone  down  to  drink  and  take  his 
bath,  and  he  tumbled  in,  and  there  he  lies.  Over  the 
other  side  of  him,  that  is  where  Jacob  and  I  go  to  bathe 
ourselves.  The  rock  weed  grows  all  over  his  shoulders^ 
and  keeps  him  warm.  And  we  run  over  his  back,  and  sit 
on  his  great  round  head,  and  climb  into  a  hollow  place 
that  we  call  his  mouth  ;  but  he  never  stirs,  just  sleeps  and 
sleeps ;  and  there  he  will  stay,  Giles  said,  till  the  last  call 
comes.  What  is  the  matter,  preacher  ?  " 

The  preacher  had  started  with  a  little  cry  of  dismay. 
Two  or  three  aged  trees,  ragged  and  twisted  and  bent,  still 


56  ISLA  HERON. 

clung  to  the  rocks  in  this  grim  place,  and  kept  some  sort 
of  iron-bound  life  in  their  veins.  There  were  many  others 
lying  beside  them,  which  had  given  up  the  fight  years, — 
centuries  ago.  Only  their  bones  were  left,  gleaming  pallid 
and  slender  among  the  sleeping  mammoths ;  and  soon 
these  old  soldiers,  too,  would  lay  down  their  arms  and  join 
the  sleepers.  But  still  there  showed  some  faint  tinge  of 
green  in  their  rusty  tops ;  and,  as  the  preacher  looked  at 
them,  wondering,  a  great  black  bird  rose  from  the  ragged 
branches,  and  almost  brushed  past  them  in  his  flight. 

Isla  laughed  again,  and  waved  her  hand  with  a  friendly 
gesture. 

"  Those  are  our  ravens,"  she  said.  "  They  are  friends 
of  ours,  Jacob's  and  mine.  Other  folks  are  afraid  of 
them,  but  we  know  them,  and  they  like  us.  This  way, 
preacher  !  Step  up  on  this  elephant's  shoulder ;  he  will  not 
hurt  you.  There !  now  it  will  be  smoother ;  and  tell  me 
more  about  the  place  where  they  teach  dumb  people  to 
speak." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LITTLE    JACOB. 

TSLA  stood  on  the  shore,  with  Jacob's  hand  in  hers,  and 
J-  watched  the  schooner  which  bore  away  her  new  friend. 
She  had  seen  the  preacher  several  times  since  that  first 
interview,  and  they  had  talked  much  together.  She  held 
now  in  her  hand  a  precious  gift,  a  letter  to  the  head  of  the 
Deaf  and  Dumb  School,  which,  the  preacher  felt  sure, 
would  insure  Jacob's  admission.  This  kind  woman  had 
made  a  little  map  of  the  streets,  so  that  Isla  might  find 
her  way  without  trouble  through  the  crowded  city.  She 
had  offered,  if  Isla  could  only  wait,  to  be  her  guide,  and 
take  upon  herself  the  task  of  presenting  Jacob;  but  Isla 
could  not  wait.  She  gave  as  her  reason  that  the  child 
was  already  older  than  most  of  the  beginners,  from  what 
the  preacher  told  her ;  moreover,  that  now  was  the  time 
when  the  schools  would  soon  be  opening.  Other  reasons 
there  were  which  she  did  not  give,  but  the  preacher 
accepted  these,  and  gave  her  the  note  readily.  Now  the 
schooner  was  out  of  sight,  round  the  far  point  of  the 
island,  and  Isla  was  her  own  mistress.  As  Jacob  danced 
and  swung  about,  holding  fast  to  her  loving  hand,  the  girl 
was  thinking  hard.  Her  thoughts  flew  forward  to  that 


58  ISLA  HERON. 

strange,  dreadful  place,  the  city.  Already  she  felt  the 
stifling  air,  and  saw  the  walls  close  around  her.  It  would 
take  months,  years,  the  preacher  said,  before  Jacob  would 
learn  to  speak.  If  she  could  only  live  so  long !  She  had 
only  half  listened  when  the  preacher  told  her  of  all  the 
pleasant  things  she  would  see  and  hear.  She  knew  better 
than  that.  Herons  could  not  live  in  cities;  Herons  like 
her  and  Giles.  Jacob  was  so  young,  he  would  not  know 
so  well,  perhaps,  and  would  soon  forget — forget!  The 
word  went  through  the  girl  like  a  sharp  pain.  Under  all 
lay  the  dread,  not  spoken  even  to  herself,  shut  out 
instantly  when  it  forced  itself  to  her  mind,  —  that  she 
might  not  be  allowed  to  stay  with  her  brother  at  the 
school.  If  all  went  as  she  had  planned  there  would  be 
no  danger,  none  at  all.  They  would  never  know.  Silence 
had  become  the  rule  of  her  life.  But  there  might  be  some 
mistake  ;  some  emergency  might  arise  that  would  force 
her  to  speak. 

Then,  if  she  were  sent  away  from  him,  would  Jacob 
forget?  She  grasped  the  child's  hand  so  hard  that  he 
winced,  and  held  up  his  face  with  a  little  moan  of  pain. 
She  bent  down  and  took  him  in  her  arms,  soothing  him  so 
gently  that  he  forgot  the  moment's  grief,  and  laughed 
again.  Isla  smiled,  the  rare  smile  that  made  her  whole 
face  bright  with  inward  light;  but  she  did  not  laugh. 
There  was  no  one  to  hear  her  laugh,  since  Giles  died. 

That  afternoon  she  told  Jacob  that  she  must  leave  him 
for  some  hours.  He  was  to  be  happy,  oh,  so  happy  !  for 
he  might  play  on  the  stretch  of  white  sand  where  the  gold- 


LITTLE  JACOB.  59 

shells  were,  taking  care  not  to  go  below  the  rope  of  sea- 
weed that  marked  their  high-tide  boundary.  He  was  so 
careful,  she  knew  she  might  trust  him.  And  she  would 
bring  him  an  orange  from  the  village,  if  there  was  one ; 
sometimes  the  captain  brought  a  few  over  from  the  main, 
on  his  weekly  trip  with  the  mail  -  schooner.  At  least  she 
would  bring  him  something,  surely,  something  good  or 
pretty;  and  he  was  to  play  his  best  plays,  and  think  of 
her,  and  the  time  would  go  quickly,  quickly,  till  she  came 
back. 

Jacob  nodded  and  laughed,  well  content.  He  would 
never  have  Isla  out  of  his  sight,  if  that  might  be ;  but  he 
knew  that  these  times  must  come,  and  he  was  a  patient 
child,  and  knew  not  the  sense  of  being  unhappy  or  for- 
lorn. Taking  his  clam-shell  spade  and  his  pails  of  birch- 
bark,  he  trotted  down  to  the  strip  of  white  shell-sand,  and 
there  built  houses,  and  rocks,  and  lighthouses,  such  as 
Isla  had  showed  him.  He  had  seen  the  houses  himself, 
but  the  tall  tower  he  took  on  faith ;  there  was  no  tower 
in  those  days  on  the  Wild  Rocks.  Tiring  of  his  building, 
he  gathered  a  great  heap  of  gold-shells,  and  watched  the 
afternoon  sunbeams  play  on  their  delicate  scales  and  turn 
them  to  ruddy  gold,  where  at  first  they  were  pale.  Then 
he  found  a  rock-pool,  full  of  brown  shrimps ;  he  lay  on  his 
stomach,  and  watched  them  scuttling  in  and  out  of  the 
rockweed  fringe.  Presently  an  unwary  barnacle  opened 
his  shell  and  put  out  his  plume  of  feathers.  Whisk !  he 
was  seized  by  a  crab,  torn  from  his  home,  enveloped, 
swept  away  into  the  dark  caverns.  Poor  barnacle !  Jacob 


60  ISLA  HERON. 

shook  his  head  in  compassion ;  yet,  having  large  sympathies, 
was  glad,  too,  that  the  crab  had  such  a  good  supper. 

A  little  chill  struck  him.  The  sand  turned  from  bril- 
liant to  dead  white,  and,  turning,  he  saw  that  the  sun  had 
gone  down  behind  the  crest  of  the  sister  island  across  the 
bay.  It  was  time  for  Isla  to  come !  The  red  glow  had 
faded  from  the  gold-shells,  too,  and  they  looked  pale  and 
cold.  Cold  !  and  they  must  stay  out  here  all  night,  and 
then  it  would  be  very  cold  indeed !  Isla  would  make  him 
a  little  fire,  and  cook  his  supper,  and  they  would  be  warm 
and  comfortable  at  home,  but  the  poor  things  on  the  beach 
would  be  cold. 

And  now  a  bright  thought  came  to  Jacob ;  a  thought 
that  made  him  clap  his  hands,  and  make  little  sounds  of 
pleasure,  such  as  a  bird  or  a  young  lamb  might  make. 

Why  should  not  he  build  a  fire  ?  Not  in  the  house,  but 
here,  on  the  shore  ?  Isla  would  see  it  on  her  way  back, 
and  it  would  light  up  the  rocks  and  make  them  bright  and 
cheerful,  and  she  Avould  know  that  he  was  watching  and 
Avaiting  for  her.  And  then  it  would  last  all  night,  per- 
haps, and  the  poor  shells  and  things  would  be  warm  for 
once.  It  would  be  fine,  fine !  He  cooed  with  joy.  Isla 
should  see  how  clever  he  was,  how  well  he  could  do  things 
to  help !  He  ran  here  and  there,  picking  up  bits  of  drift- 
wood, twigs  and  sticks  and  shingles.  The  light  faded,  but 
Jacob's  face  made  a  little  brightness  of  its  own.  Soon  he 
had  quite  a  pile  collected  ;  then  he  ran  to  the  house  for 
matches,  and  soon  the  fire  was  leaping  and  crackling 
merrily.  The  warmth  and  glow  were  heartening!  The 


LITTLE  JACOB.  61 

happy  child  bent  above  it,  and  spread  out  his  hands,  and 
murmured  pure  pleasure.  How  soon  would  Isla  come? 
Surely  she  had  never  stayed  so  long  before. 

The  tide  was  rising,  and  now  murmured  higher  and 
higher  on  the  stones ;  but  Jacob  had  no  fear  of  the  tide. 
The  rope  of  seaweed  was  his  boundary,  and  that  lay 
always  dry,  and  he  and  his  pretty  fire  were  well  above  it. 
The  fire  was  very  friendly,  he  thought.  It  was  dancing 
for  him,  making  all  sorts  of  pretty  plays  for  him.  He 
danced,  too,  to  show  that  he  appreciated  the  courtesy ;  but, 
on  the  whole  he  liked  best  to  sit  close  beside  it,  with  his 
palms  spread  to  catch  all  the  kindly  warmth. 

Sitting  so,  his  mind  full  of  happy  thoughts,  sleep  came 
softly  to  him.  It  was  past  his  bedtime,  or  perhaps  it  was 
only  the  heat,  so  close  at  hand,  that  brought  the  drowsi- 
ness. He  tried  to  brush  it  away,  but  it  came  back.  The 
evening  grew  dim,  and  only  the  fire  glowed  bright  and 
cheerful.  Presently  the  curly  head  sank  down  on  the 
warm  seaweed ;  there  was  a  little  sigh  or  two,  of  sheer 
comfort  and  content,  and  Jacob  was  asleep. 

The  tide  still  rose  quietly,  and  murmured  softly  on  the 
stones.  A  beach  bird  ran  by,  and  did  not  fear  to  brush 
the  child  with  its  wing,  he  was  so  still,  and  looked  so 
gentle.  A  sea-gull  came  wheeling  in  over  the  beach  ; 
hovered  a  moment  on  broad  wings,  then  vanished,  a  white 
ghost  in  the  deepening  gray.  The  fire  smouldered,  the 
brands  fell  away  into  soft,  gray  heaps  with  a  red  coal  at 
the  centre ;  and  still  the  child  slept,  though  now  the  air 
grew  thin  and  cold,  and  a  fog  began  to  creep  in  from  the 
sea. 


62  ISLA  HERON. 

Now  was  it  a  thing  of  his  dreams,  or  was  there  a  flutter 
of  broader  wings  over  the  lonely  shore  ?  Were  they  real, 
the  two  figures  that  stood  dimly  lovely  in  the  waning 
light? 

Surely  they  were  speaking  — 

"  See !  he  is  sleeping,  how  soundly !  He  should  be 
mine,  not  yours.  He  hears  now  ;  he  speaks  now ;  and  I 
will  but  loose  him  from  the  little  dumb  thing  that  was  the 
prison  of  him,  and  he  shall  hear  and  speak  always,  for- 
evermore.  If  I  lay  my  hand  on  him,  it  will  be  only  a 
touch,  and  not  so  cold,  only  a  soft  coolness ;  and  then !  oh, 
the  waking  for  him  !  Why  would  you  keep  him  from  me  ? 
for  it  is  to  me  that  the  word  should  come." 

And  the  other,  the  flame-winged  spirit,  could  not  an- 
swer ;  could  only  keep  her  own  warm  hand  on  the  child's 
heart,  and  breathe  on  him  with  her  warm  breath,  and  wait 
and  listen  in  anguish,  lest  the  word  should  indeed  come  to 
her  brother  and  not  to  her. 

And  if  the  word  should  come  a  moment  late,  and  she 
had  lost  the  faint  flutter  of  the  little  heart? 

But  how  strange  for  the  angel  not  to  know,  that  there 
is  no  "  too  late ! " 

Hark !  what  sound  is  that  ? 

A  moment  ago, — unless  those  shadowy  forms  were  real 
indeed, — there  was  only  silence  and  the  falling  night,  and 
the  child  asleep  on  the  shingle.  But  now,  though  no  voice 
is  heard  —  for  who  should  cry  aloud  to  the  deaf  child? — 
yet  the  air  is  full  of  sound;  it  palpitates  with  motion. 
The  light  shock  of  pebbles  falling  beneath  hurrying  feet, 


LITTLE  JACOB.  63 

the  patter  of  those  feet,  hardly  touching  the  sand  "as  they 
flit  past ;  then  round  the  point  a  figure  flying,  swift  and 
silent,  with  outstretched  arms  and  hair  streaming  loose. 
Isla !  Isla  is  coming ! 

Go  thy  way,  good  brother  Death!  not  yet  the  child 
needs  thee ;  not  yet  is  he  to  take  thy  kind,  cold  hand 
and  go  with  thee.  And  thou,  flame -winged  spirit,  fold 
him  yet  closer  in  thy  warm  arms,  for  the  night  falls  chill. 

Isla  dropped  on  the  beach  and  clasped  the  boy  to  her 
heart  The  little  limbs  were  cold,  but  the  breath  came 
warm  on  her  cheek,  as  she  pressed  him  close,  and  kissed 
and  patted  him.  She  dropped  the  orange  beside  him.  It 
was  this  that  had  made  her  late ;  going  for  it  on  board  a 
vessel  where  she  heard  the  fruit  might  be  had,  and  de- 
tained by  the  churlish  skipper,  till  night  began  to  fall, 
while  she  was  still  at  the  further  end  of  the  island. 
Would  the  child  wake  to  see  it? 

Jacob  opened  his  eyes,  slowly,  unwillingly,  thinking  the 
morning  was  come  too  soon ;  and  found  night  instead  of 
the  sun,  but  he  felt  his  Isla's  arms  about  him,  and  her 
warm  face  pressed  to  his,  and  knew  that  his  joy  was  come 
back  to  him.  He  nestled  in  the  strong,  tender  arms,  and 
laughed,  now  wide-awake,  and  pointed  to  the  fire,  telling, 
with  eloquent  gestures,  what  he  had  done.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  his  fire  had  brought  her  back;  happy  Jacob! 
And  Isla,  kneeling  on  the  sand,  holding  him  in  her  arms, 
promised  to  herself  that  never  again  in  this  world  would 
she  and  Jacob  part.  Alas  for  thee,  Isla !  Not  for  us  are 
the  promises. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

LOCHABER   NO    MORE! 

"  X70U  was  think  in'  of  goin'  to-day,  was  you,  Isly?" 
A  It  was  Joe  Brazybone  who  spoke.  He  was  stand- 
ing on  the  wharf,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  two  Herons ; 
there  was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  about  the  three 
which  told  that  some  great  thing  was  toward. 

"Yes,  Joe,"  said  Isla.  "You  know  very  well  that  I 
am  going.  Why  do  you  ask  me  so  many  times?" 

"  Nothiu' ;  nothin'  at  all ! "  said  Joe,  hastily.  He  stood 
in  a  curious  attitude,  with  one  hand  held  behind  him;  and, 
whenever  Isla  turned  to  look  at  him,  he  sidled  about  in  a 
confused,  guilty  fashion,  keeping  his  face  turned  resolutely 
toward  her. 

"  Was  you  goin'  that  way,  Isly  ?  "  he  persisted.  "  With- 
out no  bunnit  on  your  head  ?  Ain't  you  afraid  of  ketchin' 
somethin'?" 

Isla  laughed. 

"  Mrs.  Maynard  tried  to  make  me  wear  a  hat,"  she  said. 
"  I  never  wore  a  hat  in  my  life,  Joe.  I  could  not  see  with 
straw  down  over  my  eyes.  And  what  should  I  catch  ? " 

Joe  looked  miserable.  Loyalty  forbade  him  to  say  plainly 
that  she  would  be  stared  at  in  the  city  if  she  went  about 
bareheaded.  He  glanced  nervously  behind  him,  his  hands 


LOCHABER   NO  MORE!  65 

twitching;  then  at  the  girl  again;  but  Isla  had  already 
forgotten  him,  and  was  gazing  with  all  her  eyes  at  the 
schooner,  which  was  evidently  nearly  ready  to  sail. 

"Will  you  take  me  aboard  now,  Joe?"  she  said.  "I 
think  it  must  be  time." 

Joe's  red  and  brown  turned  to  a  deep  purple ;  with  a  des- 
perate effort  he  mastered  his  confusion,  and  brought  his 
hand  round  to  the  front.  It  held  a  strange  object,  which 
he  thrust  forward  to  Isla. 

"You  take  this!"  he  pleaded.  "You  take  this,  Isly, 
and  wear  it  for  old  Joe.  'T  ain't  what  I  could  wish,  but 
'twill  cover  your  head,  and — and  keep  you  from  ketchin' 
things.  Some  say  'tis  handsome,  but  I  don't  know  how 
that  is.  Anyway,  't  was  the  best  I  could  do." 

The  thing  he  held  out  was  a  bonnet,  of  vast  size  and 
ancient  fashion.  The  front  was  filled  with  crushed  and 
faded  muslin  flowers ;  the  crumpled  ribbons  and  tarnished 
silk  showed  that  it  had  lain  for  years  in  its  box.  Isla 
gazed  at  it  in  amazement. 

"  'T  was  Ma'am's ! "  said  Joe,  hastening  to  explain.  "  My 
own  mother's,  I  mean,  Isly.  That's  why  it  don't  look 
quite  so  new-fangled  as  some.  But  there's  good  stuff  in 
this  bunnit.  I  remember  of  Ma'am's  sayin'  so,  when  father 
brought  it  home  to  her  over  from  the  main.  I  was  a 
youngster  then,  but  I  remember  her  very  words.  '  'T  is 
too  gay  for  my  age,  Hiram,'  she  says ;  '  but  there  's  good 
stuff  in  it,  and  I  'm  obleeged  to  you  for  fetchin'  of  it.'  You 
take  it  now,  Isly,  and  keep  it.  Many's  the  time  Mother 
Brazybone  as  is  has  tried  to  get  her  hands  on  to  this  bun- 


66  ISLA  HERON. 

nit,  but  Joe  was  too  many  for  her.  Old  Joe  ain't  got  many 
handsome  things,  but  what  he  has  ain't  goin'  to  no  Brazy- 
bone.  When  my  little  Heron  lady  wants  any  of  old  Joe's 
things,  she 's  only  got  to  speak  for  'em,  and  there  they  be. 
So  you  take  the  bunnit,  Isly,  and  't  will  do  me  good  to  see 
ye  in  it." 

Isla  knew  little  about  bonnets,  but  her  eyes  told  her  that 
this  was  a  hideous  monstrosity.  Nevertheless  she  took  it, 
and  smiled  at  Joe  with  friendly  eyes.  "  Thank  you,  Joe !  " 
she  said.  "  It  is  ever  so  kind  of  you  to  give  me  something 
that  belonged  to  your  mother.  I  won't  put  it  on  now, 
because  I  should  n't  know  how  to  wear  it.  I'll  take  it  with 
me  on  board  the  schooner,  Joe,  and  then  we  will  see." 

Joe  nodded  in  delight,  and  then  went  and  got  his  little 
red  boat,  and  rowed  Isla  and  Jacob  over  to  the  mail- 
schooner,  which  was  making  signals  for  departure. 
Jacob's  eyes  were  round  with  wonder  at  all  he  was  see- 
ing. He  held  Isla's  hand  tight,  but  having  that,  feared 
nothing,  and  followed  cheerfully  where  she  bade  him. 

Captain  Ezekiel,  the  sturdy,  brown -bearded  skipper  of 
the  Egret,  welcomed  the  children  kindly  enough.  He 
hardly  knew  the  wild  Heron  girl  by  sight,  but  he  knew  all 
about  her,  and  had  learned  through  Joe  Brazybone  of  her 
plans  for  her  little  brother.  Most  of  the  villagers  thought 
it  was  tomfoolery,  and  said  the  appointments  of  Providence 
were  n't  good  enough  for  Herons,  so  this  girl  was  going  to 
try  and  reverse  the  Lord's  jedgment  about  her  deef-dummy 
brother.  But  Captain  Ezekiel  knew  too  much  for  this 
point  of  view,  and  had  silenced  the  talk,  as  much  as  he 


LOCHABER  NO  MORE!  6£ 

could,  and  promised  the  preacher  to  befriend  the  two  help- 
less children. 

He  was  a  silent  man,  and,  after  nodding  kindly  to  Jacob, 
and  telling  Isla  to  make  herself  at  home,  he  had  nothing 
further  to  say.  As  he  and  his  mate  hoisted  the  shining 
sail,  Isla  turned  to  Joe  to  say  good-by. 

"  Joe,"  she  said,  "  you  have  been  so  good  and  kind.  I 
can't  thank  you,  Joe,  but  Giles  will  be  glad  if  he  knows." 
Joe  did  not  take  the  hand  she  held  out  to  him. 
"I  —  I  was  n't  thinkin'  of  goin'  back  right  away,  Isly," 
he  said,  shuffling  awkwardly  about,  with  his  eyes  on  the 
deck.     "  Cap'n  'Zekle,  he  's  no  objection  to  me  goin'  over 
to  the   main,  he    says.      I  wa'  n't  calc'latin'  to  go  back 
right  yet,  ye  see." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Isla,  in  surprise.  It  was  years  since  Joe 
Brazybone  had  left  the  island,  and  she  knew  it. 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  had  friends  over  on  the  main,  Joe." 
"  Not  —  not  rightly  friends,  perhaps  I  should  n't  call 
'em,"  Joe  admitted,  still  studying  the  planks  with  atten- 
tion. "  But  —  well "  (and  his  face  brightened  visibly),  "  I 
ain't  got  no  enemies.  There 's  where  it  is,  you  see,  Isly,  I 
ain't  got  no  enemies,  so  there 's  nothin'  to  hender  my  goin' 
over  to  the  main,  so  long  as  Cap'n  Zekle  has  no  objection." 
He  drew  a  long  breath  after  this  statement,  and  ven- 
tured to  steal  a  look  at  Isla  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
But  Isla  thought  little  of  what  he  said.  She  accepted  the 
homage  of  the  queer  man  who  had  loved  her  father ;  it 
seemed  entirely  natural  that  Joe  Brazybone  should  be 
devoted  to  her ;  but  she  gave  him  little  thought  beyond  a 


70  ISLA  HERON. 

kindly  feeling,  and  a  consciousness  that  she  could  make 
him  happy  for  a  day  by  smiling  and  nodding  to  him,  even 
though  she  seldom  spoke.  Now  she  had  said  far  more 
than  usual,  and  she  thought  no  more  of  his  matters.  Her 
thoughts  still  flew  forward  to  the  new  life,- the  prisoned 
life  in  which  Jacob  would  be  all  her  sun  and  air,  her  world, 
her  joy,  as  she  would  be  his.  But  her  eyes  turned  back- 
ward with  passionate  longing  toward  the  home  that  they 
were  leaving.  The  schooner  moved  swiftly,  sailing  along 
the  southern  shore.  Now  they  were  coming  to  the  South 
Rocks,  her  own  rocks,  where  half  of  her  heart  must  stay, 
while  her  body  went  on,  away.  They  passed  the  opening 
of  the  Dead  Valley.  It  seemed  as  if  the  sleeping  mam- 
moths must  rise  from  their  long  slumber  and  call  to  her ; 
as  if  every  crag  and  cliff,  every  ragged,  friendly  tree,  must 
see  her  desertion  and  cry  out  upon  it.  Her  eyes  strained 
backward  as  the  schooner  flew,  the  heart  seemed  torn  out 
of  her  breast.  See !  The  ravens,  rising  from  a  tufted  fir, 
and  sailing  slowly  above  the  valley.  Were  they  looking 
for  her?  Would  they  know  why  she  had  gone,  how  it 
killed  her  to  go  ?  Now  the  wild  birds  flapped  toward  the 
shore,  uttering  a  harsh  cry ;  and  it  smote  on  the  girl's 
heart  like  a  reproach.  An  answering  cry  rose  to  her  lips, 
but  she  forced  it  back,  and,  turning  resolutely  away,  fixed 
her  eyes  on  little  Jacob's  face.  The  boy  was  smiling  hap- 
pily at  the  bright  waves  as  they  rose  and  fell  around  the 
schooner ;  and  Isla  took  his  hand  in  hers  and  saw  her  sun- 
shine in  his  face. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   NEW   SCHOLARS. 

"  A  ND  how  are  the  two  new  scholars  doing?  "  asked  the 
**  trustee. 

The  principal  smiled,  and  then  sighed,  and  shook  her 
head.  "  They  are  doing  extremely  well,"  she  said  ;  "  but — " 

"  But  ?  "  said  the  trustee. 

"I  don't  make  them  out  at  all,"  said  the  principal. 
"  That  is,  —  oh,  the  little  boy,  of  course,  is  just  a  good 
little  fellow,  not  too  bright,  but  with  the  sunniest,  sweetest 
disposition  in  the  world.  It  is  the  girl  that  puzzles  me. 
It  is  incredible  that  she  should  know  as  much  as  she  does, 
if  she  has  been  always  deaf ;  yet  it  is  evident  that  she  has 
been  taught  no  lip-reading ;  and  her  signs  are  none  of  the 
regular  ones,  but  a  language  of  her  own,  that  she  carries 
on  with  the  little  brother.  She  will  not  answer  any  ques- 
tions that  we  put  in  writing ;  just  smiles,  a  kind  of  thrilling 
smile,  that  goes  to  one's  heart,  —  I  don't  know  how  to 
describe  it,  —  and  puts  out  her  hand  and  strokes  yours, 
and  —  and  somehow,  one  does  n't  ask  her  anything  more. 
She  comes  from  an  island,,  she  writes,  and  the  parents  are 
dead,  and  she  and  the  boy  are  wholly  alone." 

The  trustee  mused. 


72  ISLA  HERON. 

"  You  had  some  kind  of  reference  with  them,"  he 
asked.  "Tell  me  all  about  it,  will  you?  I  have  been 
away,  you  know,  and  only  heard  of  the  matter  at  third 
hand." 

"  It  was  about  a  month  ago.  I  happened  to  be  crossing 
the  hall  myself,  on  some  errand,  and  heard  James,  the 
porter,  talking  to  some  one.  He  saw  me,  and  called  me 
to  come.  There  on  the  steps  stood  these  two  children,  — 
well,  the  girl  is  hardly  a  child  in  stature,  being  tall  and 
slight,  but  she  seems  very  young,  —  hand  in  hand.  The 
girl  held  a  note,  and  was  trying  to  make  him  read  it ; 
James  was  asking  question  after  question,  and  at  each  one 
she  shook  her  head  quietly.  She  made  none  of  the  usual 
signs,  and  he  never  thought  of  her  being  a  deaf-mute.  I 
took  the  note,  and  found  it  was  addressed  to  me ;  it  was 
from  a  young  woman  I  know,  a  divinity  student.  She 
was  appointed  a  travelling  missionary  this  summer  to  sail 
about  the  coast,  teaching  and  preaching,  and,  on  some  wild 
island  or  other,  —  I  forgot  its  name,  —  she  found  these 
children.  She  asked  me  to  be  kind  to  the  children  ;  said 
that  Isla  was  an  interesting  girl,  and  that  her  one  desire 
was  to  have  her  little  brother  taught  to  speak.  She  said 
nothing  about  Isla  herself  learning ;  possibly  she  thought 
her  too  old  for  the  school,  or  else  that  she  would  plead 
her  own  cause ;  and  she  has  certainly  done  it.  She  is  a 
strange,  wild  creature,  but  there  is  something  unspeakably 
winning  about  her.  Oh,  and  there  was  another  thing  that 
was  very  curious.  I  think  James  himself  must  tell  you 
about  that." 


THE   NEW   SCHOLARS.  73 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  the  porter  appeared,  a  good- 
natured  looking  Irishman,  not  perhaps  too  clever. 

"  James,"  said  Miss  Stewart,  « I  want  you  to  tell  Mr. 
Upton  about  the  strange  man  who  came  here  just  after  I 
had  taken  the  Heron  children  up-stairs,  the  day  they  first 
came." 

James  looked  uneasy,  and  shuffled  on  his  feet. 

"  Sure,  he  was  a  crazy  man,  sir ! "  he  said.  "  There  did 
be  no  sense  in  the  things  he  said  to  me,  at  all." 

"  No  matter ;  let 's  hear  them,  James.  If  we  never 
heard  any  remarks  but  those  with  sense  in  them,  we  might 
live  in  silence  a  good  part  of  our  lives.  Out  with  it !  " 

James  shuffled  again,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder,  as  if 
expecting  to  see  some  one  behind  him. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  '11  tell  you  just  as  it  befel,  and,  if  you  don't 
believe  me,  it'll  not  be  my  fault,  nor  yet  I'll  not  be 
blamin'  ye.  I  thought  strange  of  those  two  youngsters, 
coming  all  by  their  two  selves  that  way ;  and,  after  Miss 
Stewart  took  them  up-stairs,  I  went  out  on  the  steps  and 
looked  up  and  down  the  street  ^  couple  o'  times.  '  It 
might  be  like  this,'  says  I  to  myself,  'that  somebody 
wanted  to  get  shut  on  'em,'  I  says, '  and  has  turned  'em 
over,  poor  dumb  things,  where  they'll  be  taken  care  of, 
and  now  stealin'  off  wid  himself!'  I  says.  And  that 
minute,  if  I  did  n't  catch  sight  of  a  feller  skulkin'  behind 
the  corner,  and  eyein'  me  round  it,  for  all  the  world  like  a 
sneakin'  spy,  Miss  Stewart,  ma'am.  I  '11  not  deceive  you, 
sir,  that  I  did  n't  like  the  look  of  him  at  all.  If  he  'd 
been  a  common  mortal  man,  like  you  and  me,  sir,  and  no 


74  I8LA  HERON. 

offence,  I  'd  ha'  had  him  out  o'  that  by  the  collar  before  he 
could  wink,  and  asked  his  business.  But  he  was  an  on- 
'arthly  piece ;  I  don't  know  what  he  was  like,  at  all ;  but 
his  face  was  all  patches,  and  his  mouth  the  whole  way 
round  it,  so  it  was  ;  and  the  way  he  looked  out  of  his  two 
eyes,  —  well !  1  thought  I  'd  be  goin'  in,  whether  he  was 
a  man  or  a  pixy,  the  way  we  see  thim  in  Ireland.  But  I 
could  n't  turn  round,  till  he  was  up  on  the  steps,  and  had 
me  by  the  collar,  and  the  two  eyes  of  him  gogglin'  in  my 
face,  fit  to  turn  me  to  stone.  And  he  put  his  face  up  close 
to  mine,  that  never  was  near  such  an  ugly  thing  before, 
God  be  good  to  me !  and  he  says,  and  it  half  a  whisper 
and  half  a  yell,  — 

"  '  You  '11  take  care  of  that  young  lady ! '  he  says.  '  Are 
you  the  boss  here  ? '  and  me  no  chance  to  answer,  wid  his 
hand  in  the  neck  of  me,  and  me  voice  choked  in  me  throat, 
— '  You  '11  take  care  of  that  young  lady ! '  he  says,  '  I 
want  you  to  know,'  he  says,  '  that  she 's  not  alone,  that 
young  lady  ain't.  There 's  them  as  is  watchin'  over  her, 
and  that  '11  know  if  she  ain't  treated  good.  And  if  they 
find  out  she  ain't,  see  here !  I  '11  come  here  myself,  and 
I  '11  wring  your  neck ! '  he  says.  '  I  could  do  it  as  easy 
as  I  would  a  chicken's,  and  'twould  be  nothing  but  a 
pleasure.  So  now  you  know.  That  young  lady's  name  is 
Heron:  Isly  Heron  her  name  is,  and  she's  wuth  more 
money  than  there  is  in  your  city  and  Noo  York  wropped 
together!  I  know  Herons,  and  you'd  better  know  'em 
too,  and  treat  'em  as  is  right  and  proper.  And  my 
name's  Brazybone,  and  don't  you  forget  the  sound  of 


THE   NEW   SCHOLARS.  75 

it ;  Brazybone,  do  ye  hear  ?  And  when  Heron 's  near,  just 
you  be  sure  Brazybone  ain't  fur  off!  You  be  sure  of 
that,  and  mind  your  lobster-pots !  That 's  what  I  say  to 
you!' 

"  And  then,  Mr.  Upton,  he  give  my  collar  a  twist,  sir, 
as  near  broke  my  neck,  it  did  ;  and  shook  his  fist  in  my 
face,  and  put  his  own  ugly  mug  right  up,  grinnin'  at  me 
till  I  thought  the  eyes  would  rowl  out  of  his  head.  And 
then  dropped  me,  and  goes  shamblin'  off  round  the  cor- 
ner. There  !  Now  I  've  told  it,  Miss  Stewart,  and  don't 
ask  me  to  tell  it  again  no  more,  for  the  chills  go  down  my 
back,  they  do,  when  I  think  of  it." 

James  was  soothed  and  dismissed,  and  went  off,  mutter- 
ing, to  his  den. 

"  It  is  true  that  he  was  terribly  frightened,  poor  fellow," 
said  Miss  Stewart,  laughing.  "  We  found  him  as  white  as 
a  sheet,  and  for  a  long  time  he  would  not  say  a  word  about 
what  had  happened.  Indeed,  I  have  never  heard  the  whole 
oHt  before.  Do  you  think  the  man  was  a  lunatic  ?" 

"  Perhaps ;  or  perhaps  some  Caliban  of  an  islander,  who 
had  been  sent  to  guard  the  two  children.  My  curiosity  is 
thoroughly  roused  about  them,  I  confess.  Can  I  have  a 
peep  at  them  before  I  go,  or  are  they  already  in  bed  ?" 

Miss  Stewart  led  the  way  up-stairs. 

"  We  have  given  them  a  room  together,"  she  said  apolo- 
getically. "  It  is  hardly  according  to  rules,  but  they  have 
never  been  separated  in  their  lives,  and  it  seemed  so  ter- 
rible a  thing  to  them,  that  we  thought  we  might  strain 
a  point,  and  let  them  be  together  for  a  while,  till  they 


76  ISLA  HERON. 

grew  accustomed  to  the  new  surroundings.  There  was  a 
vacant  room,  which  was  not  in  use." 

The  trustee  nodded.  "  I  like  india-rubber  in  my  cast- 
iron,  too  !  "  he  said,  sympathetically.  "  It  wears  much 
better." 

They  went  silently  up  the  second  flight.  At  the  landing, 
Miss  Stewart  paused,  and  beckoned  to  her  companion  to 
come  up;  unconsciously  she  put  her  finger  to  her  lips, 
which  was  absurd,  if  there  were  none  but  deaf  children 
near  by.  The  trustee  came  up,  and  looked  over  her 
shoulder. 

The  door  of  a  large  room  opposite  the  stairs  stood  open. 
No  furniture  was  in  the  room,  save  two  beds  and  a  chair 
or  two.  In  one  bed  a  little  boy  sat  upright,  clapping  his 
hands  and  making  soft  sounds  of  pleasure ;  his  voice  was 
unmodulated,  but  had  no  harsh,  unnatural  tone,  rather  a 
low,  rustling  murmur,  like  leaves  touched  by  a  light  wind. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  figure  that  instantly  caught  the 
eyes  of  the  two  beholders,  and  held  them. 

Isla  was  circling  round  and  round  the  room  with  light, 
swift  motions,  like  a  bird's;  her  arms  were  outspread,  her 
finger-tips  brushed  the  walls  as  she  sped  by,  and  it  was 
like  the  brushing  of  wings.  Her  long  russet  hair, 
unbraided,  waved  about  her  shoulders ;  her  eyes  seemed 
to  lighten  the  dusky  room,  where  the  twilight  was  already 
falling.  Now  and  then  she  turned  to  smile  at  Jacob,  to 
flutter  to  the  bed  and  take  him  in  her  arms  for  a  moment ; 
then  turned  again  to  her  bird-like  flight,  skimming  the 
ground  as  a  swallow  skims  the  sea.  You  would  have  said, 


THE  NEW  SCHOLARS.  11 

a  bird  imprisoned  in  human  form,  shut  within  walls,  and 
trying  with  all  its  wild  nature  to  escape  its  bonds.  Her 
face  turned  bright  on  the  little  brother,  but,  when  it  was 
away  from  him,  the  loneliness,  the  longing,  were  pitiful  to 
see.  The  trustee,  standing  well  back  in  the  shadow, 
touched  his  companion  on  the  arm  with  a  glance  of 
inquiry ;  what  did  this  mean  ?  She  shook  her  head,  and 
he  was  glad  to  see  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  His  own  heart 
ached,  as  if  he  were  watching  a  sylvan  creature  in  pain. 

Suddenly  the  girl  paused,  tired,  or  desperate,  hung  for 
a  moment  at  the  window,  gazing  out  at  the  roofs  and 
chimney  -  pots,  and  the  strip  of  blue  sky  above  them ; 
then  dropped  on  the  ground  and  sat  bowed  together,  her 
face  in  her  hands,  rocking  to  and  fro. 

Miss  Stewart  stepped  into  the  room,  and  laid  her  hand 
gently  on  the  child's  shoulder.  At  the  first  tread,  Isla 
raised  her  head,  then  dropped  it  again.  A  strong  shudder 
went  through  her,  and  her  breath  came  fast ;  but  only  for 
an  instant.  It  was  a  different  face  that  she  raised  to 
Miss  Stewart  now,  in  answer  to  the  kindly  pressure,  the 
troubled  sign  of  inquiry.  Gentle,  quiet,  a  little  anxious, 
perhaps,  with  a  smile  that  sought  to  propitiate;  this  was 
the  Isla  that  Miss  Stewart  knew.  At  the  teacher's  sign, 
she  rose  quickly,  and  came  forward  to  greet  the  stranger. 
She  took  the  hand  he  held  out,  and  gazed  at  him  intently ; 
her  eyes  were  full  of  liquid  light,  but  behind  the  light, 
what  shadow  lay  ?  suspicion,  fear,  expectation,  as  of  some- 
thing long  dreaded?  What  could  it  be?  And  as  the 
trustee  looked  in  amazement  into  these  gleaming,  watch- 


78  I  SLA  HE  EON. 

ful  eyes,  that  braved,  yet  shrank  from  him,  —  why,  what 
was  this?  He  had  fancied  it  all!  The  girl's  look  was 
only  winning,  only  timid,  anxious  to  please,  perhaps  a 
little  shy  of  a  stranger;  assuredly  the  sweetest  look  he 
had  seen  in  human  eyes. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  child ! "  he  said,  hastily.  And 
the  principal  felt  that  Isla  was  certainly  improving  in  lip- 
reading,  for  she  brightened  at  the  words,  and  smiled  more 
joyously,  and  led  the  way  to  little  Jacob's  bed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

JOE'S     TREASURY. 

JOE  BRAZYBONE  was  walking  slowly  up  the  village 
street,  on  his  way  home.  He  seemed  deep  in  thought, 
and  his  round  shoulders  were  bowed  forward,  as  if  beneath 
a  heavy  weight.  The  few  boys  who  were  hanging  about 
called  after  him,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them.  Usually, 
they  were  able  to  rouse  him  to  frenzy  by  the  song  that 
one  of  their  number  had  composed,  and  it  was  their  delight 
to  see  him  turn  and  chase  them,  with  uncouth  gestures  of 
malediction. 

"  Sculpin  Brazybone, 
Hit  him  on  his  crazy-bone; 
Knocked  out  his  wits,  and 
Scared  him  into  fits,  and 
War  n't  nothin'  left  of  him 
Only  jest  a  lazybone  !  " 

But  to  -  day  the  insulting  chant  fell  on  unheeding  ears, 
which  was  disappointing.  Joe  shambled  along  till  he 
reached  the  low,  brown  cottage,  where  he  and  his  sister- 
in-law  wrangled  their  lives  along.  He  looked  up  and 
around  before  entering  the  house,  scanning  sea  and  sky 
with  sharp,  weather-wise  eyes. 


80  ISLA  HERON. 

"It's  getting  time  for  her!"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  Soft  sky,  and  every  thin'  turnin'  green  along  by ;  time 
she  was  back  here,  to  see  things  growin'.  She  never  could 
stand  it  there  in  summer,  not  Isly  could  n't." 

Reaching  the  poor  little  room  which  was  his  castle  and 
his  defence  against  all  storms,  Joe  sat  for  a  time  in  medi- 
tation ;  then  he  rose,  and,  after  carefully  reconnoitring  the 
premises,  and  deciding  that  Ma'am  Brazybone  was  nowhere 
about,  he  went  on  tiptoe  to  a  cupboard  in  the  wall,  and 
examined  its  contents.  One  by  one  he  drew  out  several 
objects,  and,  after  looking  them  over  with  anxious  scrutiny, 
proceeded  to  arrange  them  in  orderly  lines  on  his  bed, 
which  served  for  table,  also.  A  look  of  honest  pride  spread 
over  his  homely  face,  as  he  gazed  at  these  objects  ;  he  took 
from  a  drawer  an  old  rag  of  red  handkerchief,  and  slowly 
and  methodically  wiped  off  every  one,  spying  for  a  particle 
of  dust.  It  was  a  motley  array.  A  pair  of  silver -bo wed 
spectacles ;  a  bracelet  of  carnelian  beads ;  a  brass  thimble 
and  a  horn  snuff-box ;  a  brooch  of  the  mineral  called  gold- 
stone,  set  in  tarnished,  coppery  gold ;  a  piece  of  red  coral, 
smoothed  and  polished ;  an  ancient  parasol,  of  faded  green 
silk;  these  were  the  contents  of  Joe's  treasury.  He 
gloated  over  them,  lifting  first  one  and  then  another ;  he 
murmured  praise  of  them  to  the  four  walls  that  were  his 
only  hearers. 

"Them's  pretty  beads!"  he  said,  slipping  the  string 
over  his  great  red  wrist,  and  rubbing  the  smooth  balls 
with  delight.  "Lovely,  them  is!  I  remember  of  Pop 
Brazybone's  bringin'  'em  home  to  little  Sister  Marthy,  as 


JOE 'S   TREASURY.  81 

if  't  was  yesterday.  She  was  tickled  'most  to  death,  warn't 
she  ?  Poor  little  Marthy !  She  war  n't  rugged  enough  to 
grow  up.  Old  Joe  had  the  ruggedness,  and  the  ugliness, 
too;  she  was  well-favoured,  little  Marthy  was;  not  any- 
thin'  to  speak  of  like  Isly,  but  well-favoured  for  Brazy- 
bones.  Would  n't  Isly  look  handsome  in  them !  she  'd  be 
more  than  handsome,  she  'd  be  pretty  !  And  she  's  goin' 
to  have  'em,  too.  Isly  don't  know  it  yet,  but  she  's  goin' 
to  have  old  Joe's  handsome  things,  when  she  conies  back, 
to  wear  like  a  lady,  and  put  city  folks  to  their  shames. 

"  This  sunshade,  now !  wal,  I  feel  some  dubious  about 
this  sunshade.  'T  is  tasty,  real  tasty,  but  I  kind  o'  feel 
that  Isly  wouldn't  want  to  carry  that;  unless  she  was 
goin'  to  meetin'.  Yes,  she  might  take  it  with  her  to 
meetin'."  He  nodded,  relieved. 

"  The  specs  I  '11  have  to  keep,  I  calc'late ;  no  need  for 
them  on  Isly's  eyes,  that 's  bright  as  sunshine.  Old  Joe  '11 
put  'em  on  himself,  mebbe,  some  day,  and  he  might  look 
better  for  'em." 

He  put  the  spectacles  on  his  nose,  and,  finding  a  bit  of 
cracked  looking-glass  in  a  corner,  gazed  for  a  moment  at 
his  reflection  ;  then  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Nothin'  seems  to  make  much  difference  in  your  looks, 
Joe.  Look  a  leetle  wuss  in  'em  than  what  you  do  out  of 
'em.  Wal,  now,  how  long  do  you  suppose  Mother  Brazy- 
bone  can  stand  seein'  them  featurs  every  day,  right  along  ? 
'T  is  a  caution,  how  she  bears  up  as  she  doos ;  but  she  's 
terrible  rugged,  Mother  Brazybone  is.  I  don't  expect  I  '11 
git  red  on  her  this  long  time. 


82  ISLA  HERON. 

"Now  here!"  He  held  up  the  goldstone  brooch,  and 
looked  at  it  with  reverence. 

"  That 's  a  fine  piece  of  joolery,  that  is.  When  I  go  up 
to  Bellton,  how  'd  it  be  if  I  took  that  piece  of  joolery  along 
for  Isly  ?  She  'd  think  a  sight  of  it ;  ma'am  did,  I  know. 
How  'd  it  be  if  I  jest  handed  it  in  at  the  door,  keerless 
like,  and  said  to  that  whopper -jawed  piece  of  putty  with 
buttons  on  to  him,  '  You  give  that  to  young  Lady  Heron,'  I 
says,  '  and  you  tell  her  the  man  as  brought  it  is  at  the 
door,'  I  says,  '  and  she  's  only  got  to  say  the  word  and 
there'll  be  more  like  it.'  Why  —  there  is  more  like  it, 
ain't  there  ?  Where  's  them  ear-bobs  ?  " 

He  turned  over  each  article  with  laborious  care,  search- 
ing for  what  might  lie  under  them.  Finding  nothing,  he 
went  to  the  cupboard,  and  ransacked  it,  his  face  growing 
more  and  more  troubled.  The  sweat  broke  out  on  his 
forehead,  and  he  mopped  it  with  the  rag  of  handker- 
chief ;  he  felt  in  every  corner ;  he  looked  under  the  bed, 
thinking  that  the  earrings  might  have  fallen  and  rolled  out 
of  sigh ;  but  no  earrings  were  to  be  seen. 

He  was  still  searching  painfully,  when  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps was  heard  in  the  outer  room.  A  suspicion  darted 
into  Joe's  mind,  and  clung  there  like  a  snake.  With  shak- 
ing hands  he  put  his  treasures  back  in  the  cupboard,  heap- 
ing them  carelessly,  instead  of  ranging  them  in  order,  as 
he  loved  to  do.  He  turned  the  key,  noticing  for  the  first 
time  what  a  common  pattern  it  was,  and  how  easily  any 
other  key  in  the  house  might  fit  the  lock ;  then,  putting  it 
in  his  pocket,  he  went  into  the  outer  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 


JOE'S  TREASUBY.  83 

Mrs.  Brazybone  was  standing  with  her  back  to  him,  tak- 
ing off  her  bonnet  leisurely,  and  humming  a  psalm  tune  as 
she  did  so ;  she  had  been  at  a  "  singing  tea-party,"  and  had 
enjoyed  herself  immensely.  Her  brother-in-law  took  her 
by  the  shoulders  and  whirled  her  round  to  face  him ;  his 
eyes  were  blazing,  the  muscles  on  his  temples  stood  out 
like  brown  cords,  and  his  jaws  worked  for  a  moment  be- 
fore the  words  would  come. 

"You — you — "  he  stammered,  "you  critter,  you've 
got  my  ear -bobs!  Who  give  you  leave  to  ransack  my 
cupboard  and  take  my  joolery?" 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Brazybone  was  at  a  loss;  but  the 
next  moment  she  spoke,  with  good  assurance. 

"  Was  you  thinkin'  of  wearin'  'em  yourself,  Joe  ?  I  'm 
sure  I  'd  never  have  tetched  'em,  if  I  'd  ha'  thought  you 
wanted  to  put  'em  in  your  own  handsome  ears." 

"  You  critter ! "  said  Joe  again,  shaking  her  great 
shoulders,  till  her  chin  waggled  to  and  fro.  "Take 
them  bobs  out,  hear?  Ain't  you  satisfied  with  the  rest 
of  what  you  are,  'thout  addin'  thief  on  to  it?  Will  you 
take  'em  out,  or  shall  I  take  'em  out  for  ye  ?  " 

Mrs.  Brazybone  thought  rapidly;  her  eyes  brightened 
for  a  moment  with  lust  of  battle,  but  she  felt  Joe's  hands 
like  iron  on  her  shoulders,  and  decided  for  peace.  Her 
voice  took  on  a  tone  of  whining  bluster. 

"Well,  Joseph  Brazybone!  .if  I  ever  thought  to  hear 
your  brother's  widder  called  a  thief  in  this  world !  Poor 
Jabez  !  I  'in  glad  he  ain't  here ;  't  would  break  his  heart 
to  hear  me  spoke  so  of." 


84  ISLA  HEEON. 

Joe  snorted,  but  she  saw  no  relenting  in  his  eyes,  so  she 
began  slowly  to  take  out  the  earrings. 

"  They  're  terrible  paltry  bobs,"  she  said.  "  I  should 
think  you  'd  be  glad  to  see  'em  worn  by  a  respectable  lady, 
Joseph,  'stead  of  takin'  on  this  way ! "  and  she  sniffed,  as 
she  handed  the  precious  ornaments  to  their  owner. 

"  Respectable ! "  roared  Joe,  who  had  kept  an  anxious 
silence  while  the  earrings  were  being  removed,  but  with 
them  safe  in  his  hands  now  felt  that  he  could  give  the 
rein  to  his  feelings. 

"You  respectable,  you  half-fruz  jelly-fish?  You've 
never  ben  threatened  with  bein'  respectable !  Don't  you 
be  afraid,  Mother  Brazybone,  nobody  '11  ever  say  that  of 
ye  !  But  now,  see  here !  you  let  my  belongings  alone,  do 
ye  hear  ?  from  henceforth  now  and  forever,  so  help  ye ;  or 
I  '11  trim  yer  ears  to  match  yer  nose,  and  then  the  hull 
island  'ud  fly  away  in  the  air  to  get  out  of  the  sight  of  ye." 

He  retired  with  his  rescued  treasures,  and  Mrs.  Brazy- 
bone congratulated  herself  on  getting  off  so  easily.  She 
had  counted  on  restoring  the  gauds  before  Joe  came  back 
from  fishing,  and  had  been  regretting  all  the  afternoon  that 
she  had  not  taken  the  brooch  as  well ;  now  she  reflected 
that  "  a  passel  o'  words  did  n't  do  one  a  might  o'  hurt," 
and  remembered  with  a  thrill  of  pride  how  many  eyes  had 
been  fixed  admiringly  on  the  dangling  ornaments.  She 
promised  herself  to  be  more  careful  next  time ;  but  the 
next  time  she  opened  the  cupboard  with  her  door-key,  the 
treasury  was  empty. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

DISCOVERY. 

/T~>HE  trustee  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  Deaf-mute 
School,  and  pulled  the  bell.  He  had  come  to  see 
his  friend  Isla,  and  his  pockets  were  full  of  oranges  for 
Jacob.  He  had  grown  much  attached  to  the  stranger  chil- 
dren, and  Isla  especially  had  come  very  near  his  heart. 
He  was  a  childless  man,  and  now  and  then  the  thought 
crossed  his  mind  that  some  day  he  might  take  the  brother 
and  sister  home  to  his  ample  house,  to  be  his  children,  his 
very  own.  It  would  be  a  silent  house,  but  he  was  used 
to  that.  And  he  did  not  like  noise.  Besides,  one  never 
thought  of  Isla's  silence,  her  eyes  were  such  eloquent 
speakers  of  all  lovely  and  tender  things.  Wild,  some- 
times ;  it  seemed  to  him  now  and  then  as  if  the  girl  had 
some  trouble,  some  secret,  that  was  wearing  her  out.  He 
had  tried  to  talk  with  her,  to  learn  her  history ;  but  all 
she  told  in  her  graceful  sign-language  was  calm  and  happy, 
of  the  lovely  island,  the  care-free  life  till  after  her  mother's 
death,  and  then  the  desire  to  learn  speech,  which  overmas- 
tered everything  else.  But  something  there  was,  the  trus- 
tee felt  more  and  more  sure;  and  whatever  the  trouble 
might  be,  it  was  increasing.  Through  the  long  winter  the 
girl  had  been  quiet;  almost  apathetic,  though  her  lovely 


86  ISLA   HERON. 

smile  never  failed  to  brighten  at  sight  of  her  friends, 
never  failed  to  make  sunshine  for  her  little  Jacob.  Now, 
however,  as  the  spring  came  on,  a  restlessness  seized  her. 
She  wandered  from  window  to  window,  looking  out,  scan- 
ning the  houses  across  the  street,  as  if  she  tried  to  see 
through  and  beyond  their  solid  walls.  When  taken  out 
to  walk  with  the  other  children,  this  restlessness  became 
almost  uncontrollable.  Every  leaf,  every  blade  of  grass, 
seemed  to  draw  tier  as  if  by  magic ;  she  plucked  them, 
cherished  them  in  her  hands,  took  them  home  to  her  room. 
She  would  stand  rapt,  watching  the  birds,  till  the  teacher 
touched  her  arm,  and  motioned  her  to  go  on.  Then  she 
would  fling  her  arms  out,  with  a  gesture  of  distress,  of 
impatience ;  hut  next  moment  would  come  the  downward 
look,  the  pause,  and  then  the  sweet,  patient  smile,  and  the 
deprecating  hand  laid  on  her  friend's  arm. 

"I  declare,"  said  this  young  teacher,  speaking  to  the 
principal  one  day,  "  I  can  hardly  believe,  sometimes,  that 
Isla  does  not  hear.  It  is  not  only  that  she  watches  the 
birds;  she  certainly  seems  to  listen.  Do  you  think  she 
can  catch  any  vibrations  of  the  air,  when  they  are  trilling 
and  twittering  so  far  above  her  ?  " 

The  principal  thought  not,  but  owned  that  Isla  puzzled 
her,  too.  "  Little  Jacob  is  perfectly  normal,"  she  said,  "  but 
how  much  less  interesting !  Just  a  sweet,  good  little  fel- 
low, and  that  is  all.  Yet  he  is  learning  fast  to  articu- 
late, while  Isla  will  not  make  the  slightest  attempt.  It  is 
strange ! " 

Now,  as  the  kind  trustee  stood  waiting  for  James  to 


DISCOVERY.  87 

open  the  door,  he  heard  footsteps  behind  him,  and  turning, 
saw  a  man  coming  up  behind  him.  Such  a  man  the  trus- 
tee had  never  seen  before,  though  he  had  travelled  far.  'It 
was  not  that  he  was  ugly,  though  that  was  enough ;  it  was 
not  that  he  was  clumsy,  though  that  was  enough ;  it  was 
not  even  that  he  looked  as  much  like  a  fish  as  a  man,  if 
arms  and  legs  could  be  concealed  ;  it  was, — • 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  trustee.  "  I  have  it !  Caliban,  with 
the  addition  of  a  soul !  Precisely  !  and  may  I  be  asked  to 
resign  if  this  is  not  James's  pixy ! " 

These  remarks  were  not  audible  to  the  strange  man,  who 
stood  looking  intently  at  the  gentleman,  with  bright  blue 
eyes  that  were  little  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  uncouth 
being. 

He  opened  his  mouth  once  or  twice,  with  such  sugges- 
tions of  Jonah  that  the  trustee  involuntarily  recoiled  a  step 
or  two  ;  he  tried  to  speak,  but  found  difficulty  in  doing  so ; 
at  length, — 

"  You  're  a  gentleman ! "  said  Caliban. 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  the  trustee.  "  I  think  it  highly- 
probable  that  you  are  another.  What  can  I  do  for  you 
this  morning  ?  " 

Joe  pulled  off  his  hat  with  a  gesture  indescribably 
feudal. 

"  I  know  a  gentleman  when  I  see  him,"  he  said, 
humbly.  "  Brazy bones  ain't  never  been  gentlemen,  but 
they  knows  'em,  'count  o'  bein'  along  o'  Herons  so  long, 
you  see.  Yes,  sir;  Joseph  Brazybone  is  my  name: 
Sculpin  Joe,  some  calls  me,  on  account  of  my  style  o' 


88  ISLA  HERON. 

featur,  which  is  what  was  give  me  at  birth  ;  and  I  Ve 
come  to  see  my  young  Lady  Heron,  as  is  stopping  here  a 
spell.  You  —  bein'  a  gentleman,  you  might  know  young 
Lady  Heron,  mebbe,  sir  ?  " 

"Isla  Heron?"  said  the  trustee.  "Oh,  yes;  I  know 
Isla  very  well,  and  her  little  brother,  too." 

Joe  Brazybone  turned  away  suddenly,  and  his  round 
shoulders  heaved  once  or  twice.  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  slow  and  brokenly. 

"You — you'll  excuse  me,  gentleman,"  he  said.  "It 
came  kind  o'  suddin,  that's  all  is  the  matter  with  me. 
Old  Joe  's  had  a  hard  winter  of  it,  ye  see,  never  hearin'  a 
word  of  his  young  lady,  let  alone  seein'  her,  as  every  day 
he  done  sence  Giles  was  laid  away,  till  this  winter.  He 's 
had  a  hard  time  of  it,  Joe  has,  and  all  the  way  down  he 's 
been  thinkin',  suppose  somethin'  had  happened  to  my 
young  lady.  She's  well,  you  said,  gentleman?"  He 
turned  suddenly,  and  his  glance  was  like  a  sword.  "  No, 
you  did  n't  say  so,  but  yet  you  spoke  as  if  —  she 's  well, 
Islyis?" 

The  trustee  nodded  quickly.  "  Yes,  Joseph ;  she  is 
perfectly  well,"  he  said.  "A  very  lovely  girl,  your 
young  lady,  and  we  are  all  very  fond  of  her  here.  Now 
you  want  to  see  her,  I  am  sure,  and  here  is  the  door 
opening.  I  will  send  for  the  children  at  once." 

The  trustee  would  have  liked  to  stay  a  few  minutes  to 
ask  this  queer  retainer  a  question  or  two  about  the  Heron 
children  and  their  people ;  but  the  eagerness  of  the  man 
was  so  piteous,  his  attempts  to  conceal  it  so  hopeless,  that 


DISCOVERT.  89 

the  kind  trustee  had  mercy.  Besides,  James  had  opened 
the  door,  only  to  fall  into  a  kind  of  fit  at  sight  of  his 
goblin  of  the  past  summer.  He  was  now  behind  the  door, 
holding  it  well  between  him  and  the  strange  visitor,  and 
admonishing  his  favourite  saints,  in  a  terrified  gabble, 
to  stand  by  him  now  and  save  him  from  being  pixy -rid. 
But  Joe  had  no  eyes  now  for  James,  or  anybody  his  like. 
He  had  found  a  gentleman,  and  the  gentleman  was  going 
to  take  him  to  his  young  lady;  this  was  enough  to  fill 
Joe's  world  very  full,  and  he  only  fixed,  in  passing,  a 
vacant  stare  on  the  unhappy  porter,  which  sent  cold 
shivers  down  the  latter's  back,  and  made  him  feel  that  he 
had  got  the  evil  eye  on  him  this  time,  and  no  mistake. 

The  trustee  passed  on  up  the  wide  staircase,  Joe  follow- 
ing humbly  at  his  heels,  keeping  step  exactly,  and  standing 
motionless  whenever  he  paused  for  a  moment.  The  man's 
action  was  so  exactly  that  of  a  good  dog,  that  the  trustee 
turned  round  once  or  twice  on  the  way  up,  to  make  sure 
that  his  follower  was  indeed  human.  But  suddenly  Joe 
paused,  with  a  broken  exclamation. 

"  There  now !  there  now !  I  want  to  know  *if  I  forgot 
that !  I  want  to  know  if  I  did,  after  all  my  plannin'  and 
contrivin'." 

The  trustee  turned  round,  and  saw  his  companion 
fumbling  awkwardly  in  his  breast.  He  drew  out  a  small 
object  wrapped  in  coarse  brown  paper,  and  held  it  out 
with  a  piteous  look. 

"  See  here  !  gentleman,"  he  said.  "  I  meant  to  send  this 
to  Isly  first ;  that 's  what  I  meant  to  do.  I  meant  to  send 


90  ISLA  HERON. 

it  in  by  the  putty -faced  feller,  and  tell  how  the  man  that 
brought  it  was  there,  and  had  more  where  that  came 
from."  He  unfolded  the  paper  with  trembling  fingers, 
and  held  out  the  goldstone  brooch. 

"That's  handsome,  ain't  it?"  he  said,  anxiously. 
"  That 's  handsome  enough  for  a  young  lady  like  Isly, 
ain't  it,  gentleman?  That's  what  ladies  wear,  round  in 
city  parts  ? " 

The  trustee  examined  the  brooch  gravely. 

"A  fine  piece  of  goldstone,  Joseph.  I  never  saw  a 
prettier  piece ;  yes,  Isla  will  surely  be  pleased  with  that. 
But  don't  you  think  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  give  it 
directly  to  her  ?  I  think  she  might  be  better  pleased 
if  you  gave  it  to  her  yourself.  Wait  here  a  moment,  and 
I  will  bring  both  the  children ;  or,  there  is  Miss  Stewart ; 
I  will  ask  her  to  bring  them." 

A  few  words  told  Miss  Stewart  the  nature  of  the  new 
arrival ;  after  a  curious  glance  at  the  fish -like  visitor,  she 
sped  away.  The  kind  trustee  waited,  saying  a  word  now 
and  then  to  Joe,  trying  to  make  him  feel  at  ease,  pointing 
out  this  and  that  picture  on  the  walls  ;  but  the  islander 
paid  little  heed.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door  ;  he  sat 
on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  turning  the  brooch  absently  in 
his  fingers ;  he  was  listening  so  intently  that  the  trustee 
fancied  he  could  almost  see  his  ears  prick  from  under  the 
wisps  of  sandy  hair.  Presently  there  came  a  sound  of  feet 
on  the  stair,  and  Joe  started  up  with  an  inarticulate  sound, 
between  a  whistle  and  a  cry.  The  trustee  heard  three 
distinct  footfalls,  but  Joe  heard  only  one. 


DISCOVERY.  91 

"  She 's  comin' !  "  he  cried.     "  Isly  's  comin'  !  " 

Was  this  Isla  who  came  in  ?  The  trustee  stared  in 
amazement.  Deadly  white,  with  brows  drawn  as  if  in 
pain,  with  lips  set  close,  hands  pressed  together,  eyes  full 
of  fear,  —  was  this  Isla  ?  The  principal  shook  her  head, 
and  signed  her  amazement.  "I  could  hardly  make  her 
come,"  she  whispered.  "  She  fell  into  a  sort  of  shuddering 
fit,  —  I  fear  there  is  something  wrong  about  it  all.  Hush !  " 

Both  were  silent,  feeling  the  matter  taken  out  of  their 
hands.  Joseph  Brazybone  was  at  Isla's  feet,  half  kneeling, 
half  crouching ;  he  was  patting  her  dress,  her  hands,  touch- 
ing the  ends  of  her  long  hair  with  timid  fingers.  The 
trustee  felt  that  he  was  needing  a  tail  to  wag,  and  was 
sorry  for  him.  Little  Jacob  threw  himself  on  the  islander, 
with  every  sign  of  pleasure,  but  Joe  hardly  heeded  him, 
only  looked  up  in  Isla's  face  with  dog-like,  beseeching  eyes. 
The  girl's  eyes  were  like  hard,  bright  stones,  save  for  that 
watchful  look  of  fear,  of  expectation ;  but,  presently,  they 
softened.  The  old  kindness,  the  thought  of  her  father  and 
her  home,  flowed  over  her  like  a  wave,  shook  her  like  a 
wind.  She  smiled,  and  tried  hard  to  make  it  her  own 
smile  ;  she  patted  Joe's  shoulder  with  a  friendly  touch,  and 
pointed  to  a  chair.  But  Joe  still  crouched  on  the  floor 
gazing  at  her. 

"  Ye  're  lookin'  well,  Isly ! "  he  said  at  length  ;  and  the 
two  onlookers  started  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  so  tense 
had  the  silence  grown. 

"  Ye  're  looking  real  well,  and  growed  a  perfec'  lady,  as  I 
always  knowed."  He  paused  a  moment ;  then  went  on. 


92  ISLA  IIERON. 

"  Joe  thought  he  'd  come  to  see  ye,  y*  understand, 
young  lady !  Old  Joe  thought  he  'd  come.  The  winter 's 
been  long  enough  on  the  island,  and  come  spring  Joe  says 
to  himself, '  She  '11  be  thinking  about  home,'  he  says, '  and 
mebbe  she  '11  be  glad  to  see  a  face  as  comes  from  home, 
even  if  'tis  a  ugly  one.  Joe  ain't  never  set  up  to  be  a 
beauty,  ye  know,  Isly." 

He  tried  a  laugh,  and  it  broke  off  in  his  throat. 

"  Ain't  ye  glad  to  see  the  old  man,  Isly  ?  "  he  said,  after 
a  pause.  "  Ain't  ye  goin'  to  pass  the  time  o'  day  to  old 
Joe,  Joe  Brazybone,  as  he  and  Giles  was  boys  to- 
gether ? " 

Isla  smiled,  and  pressed  his  hand  kindly ;  her  lips  never 
moved,  but  now  she  began  to  shake  as  if  with  an  ague ; 
pale  flushes  came  and  went  through  her  clear  skin,  and  her 
breathing  was  hurried  and  broken.  The  trustee  touched 
Joe  on  the  shoulder.  "  I  fear  you  are  distressing  her ! " 
he  said  kindly,  seeing  the  man  labouring  in  anguish  of 
perplexity.  "  You  forget  Isla  hears  nothing,  and  she  has 
not  yet  learned  to  read  from  the  lips." 

Joseph  Brazybone  started  to  his  feet,  and  threw  up  his 
hands  with  a  strange  gesture. 

"What's  that  you're  sayin'?"he  asked.  "What's 
that  you  said,  gentleman,  about  Isly  Heron  ? " 

"  I  do  not  need,  surely,  to  tell  you  that  she  is  deaf  and 
dumb,"  said  the  trustee.  "You  cannot  speak  to  her  by 
signs,  as  Jacob  did  when  he  came ! " 

"  Deef ! "  cried  Joe,  and  his  voice  rang  through  the  room 
like  a  trumpet.  "  Isly  Heron  deef  ?  It 's  a  lie,  whoever 


DISCOVERY.  95 

says  so.  Isly,  why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ?  why  don't  you 
speak  to  these  folks,  and  tell  'em  not  to  call  you  out  o* 
your  name  ? 

"  Isly  Heron  deef  and  dumb,  her  that  sings  like  a  bird, 
and  talks  like  angels  in  the  sky  ?  Why,  gentleman,  and 
you,  lady  stranger,  you — you  don't  understand  what 
you  're  sayin'.  I  tell  ye,  if  God  only  allowed  one  voice 
on  this  airth,  that  voice  'ud  be  Isly  Heron's.  And  old  Joe 
comes  to  see  his  young  lady,  and  she  won't  speak  to  him. 
Oh,  Isly,  Isly,  for  yer  father's  sake,  speak  to  old  Joe  just 
once,  if  ye  never  do  again ! " 

He  was  down  on  the  floor  again,  crouching  at  her  feet. 
Isla  looked  round  the  room,  with  wild  eyes  of  a  trapped 
creature  that  sees  death  before  it ;  she  saw  the  grave  won- 
der, the  doubt  and  distress,  in  the  faces  of  the  two  spec- 
tators; she  saw  the  agony  of  pleading  in  the  rugged, 
misshapen  features  of  the  fisherman.  She  looked, — ah! 
where  else  should  she  turn  now  for  comfort  ?  In  the  face 
of  her  little  Jacob ;  Jacob,  for  whose  dear  sake  she  had 
borne  and  suffered  all ;  to  whom  now,  perhaps,  she  was 
bringing  shame,  punishment  for  her  sin;  for  she  never 
doubted  its  being  a  sin.  Jacob  was  smiling,  pleased  and 
happy  at  seeing  a  face  that  he  remembered  well  in  the  old 
days  at  home.  Those  days  were  growing  dim  now  for 
Jacob,  and  the  new  life  filled  his  little  cup  with  joy  and 
comfort.  He  looked  happily  up  at  his  sister,  but  met  her 
eyes  all  fierce  and  burning,  saw  her  face  drawn  and  dis- 
torted with  pain.  Jacob  did  not  understand  pain,  and  Isla 
looked  dreadful.  He  shrank  from  her,  and  caught  the 


96  ISLA  HERON. 

hand  that  was  next  to  him,  the  hand  of  the  principal  of 
the  school,  and  nestled  in  her  gown. 

When  Isla  Heron  saw  that,  she  threw  out  her  arms,  and 
cried  aloud. 

"  God ! "  she  cried  in  her  extremity.  "  God  !  God  ! 
where  are  you?"  Then,  with  her  bird -like  motion,  she 
swung  out  from  among  them,  pushing  aside  the  hands  that 
would  have  held  her,  avoiding  the  kind  arms  that  sought  to 
stay  her ;  out  of  the  room,  and  down  the  stair,  flying  so 
light  and  swift  that  no  one  missed  the  wings ;  out  of  the 
room  and  down  the  stair ;  and,  before  any  one  could  stir  to 
follow  her,  they  heard  the  front  door  open  quickly,  close 
lightly, — Isla  was  gone! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    WILD   ROCKS   AGAIN". 

HOME !  home  to  the  Wild  Rocks,  to  the  sea  and  the 
sky !  Away,  fast  as  flying  feet  might  go,  from  the 
walls  that  shut  out  life  and  light,  that  stifled  heart  and 
soul!  Since  the  sin  was  sinned  in  vain;  since  she  must 
be  turned  away  with  shame,  if  she  did  not  go  of  her  own 
accord,  and  that  quickly ;  since  with  her  the  little  brother, 
for  whose  dear  sake  she  had  planned  the  sin,  must  be  sent 
too,  to  share  the  shame,  and  lose  all  the  help  and  happi- 
ness that  lay  before  him  if  he  might  but  stay ;  oh !  and 
above  all,  above  all,  since  he,  the  little  cherished  one,  had 
turned  his  face  from  her  and  clung  to  the  new  friends,  who 
could  give  so  much,  while  she  had  nothing  but  her  great 
love  ;  since  all  these  things  were,  home  to  the  Wild  Rocks, 
praying  for  the  flight  of  a  bird,  speeding  straight,  with 
the  steps  of  a  child  who  had  learned  to  run  with  the 
hares  and  the  mountain  sheep.  Many  turned  to  look  at 
the  girl,  but  none  sought  to  stop  her.  Rather  people  stood 
aside,  as  for  the  flight  of  an  arrow,  feeling  the  passage  of 
some  dire  need  that  would  not  be  stayed  nor  questioned. 
Home  !  home  to  the  Wild  Rocks ! 

Captain  Ezekiel  and  his  mate,  making  all  ready  for  the 


98  ISLA   HERON. 

homeward  voyage,  never  noticed  the  slight  figure  that 
hovered  about  the  wharf,  slipping  behind  a  corner  or  a 
barrel  when  they  turned  their  faces  that  way,  venturing 
nearer  when  they  set  them  toward  the  sea.  When  they 
hoisted  the  sail,  they  never  saw  a  shadow  that  flitted  past 
them,  a  slender  shape  that  passed  noiseless  as  a  bird,  and 
slipped  down  the  narrow  stairs  of  the  little  cabin,  and  was 
gone.  There  were  no  passengers  that  day,  or  none  that 
the  captain  knew  of.  He  sailed  out  of  the  harbour  on  an 
easy  wind,  and  for  some  hours  the  schooner  made  good 
headway,  running  lightly  in  a  smooth  sea ;  but  at  twilight 
the  breeze  dropped  away,  and  soon  the  vessel  lay  rolling  on 
a  sea  of  purple  glass,  shot  with  golden  lights.  "  Ain't 
goin'  to  have  a  quick  chance  this  time,  Elmer ! "  said  the 
captain ;  and  Elmer,  aloft,  at  work  on  the  gaff  topsail, 
grunted,  with  his  knife  between  his  teeth,  and  agreed  with 
the  captain. 

The  purple  faded  into  gray,  softened  into  black  velvet, 
with  stars  trailing  their  slender  lines  of  gold  across.  The 
sea  breathed  deep  and  gently,  and  the  schooner  rolled 
slowly  on  its  broad  bosom,  making  little  progress  forward. 
The  captain  and  Elmer  brought  out  their  store  of  ship- 
biscuit  and  corned  beef,  and  made  coffee  in  the  little  fore- 
castle, and,  while  they  were  busy  over  these  matters,  the 
same  light  shape  came  softly  up  the  stairs,  and,  passing  for- 
ward, hid  itself  among  the  rigging  and  piles  of  rope. 
Once  some  small  object  was  displaced,  and  Captain  Eze- 
kiel  raised  his  head  at  the  sound. 

"  Did  you  hear  anythin'  movin'  forrard  there,  Elmer  ? " 


THE  WILD  BOCKS  AGAIN.  99 

"  Cat ! "  said  Elmer,  raising  a  mug  of  coffee  to  his  lips. 

"  So  't  is !  "  assented  the  captain.  "  Caught  a  rat,  likely, 
and  got  her  supper.  Well  now,  ain't  this  awful  moderate  ? 
I  don't  call  this  no  kind  of  a  chance.  You  better  go  to 
bed,  Elmer,  when  you  've  got  them  dishes  done  up." 

Elmer  burrowed  in  the  little  cabin,  and  slept  like  a 
woodchuck.  The  lonely  watcher  in  the  bow  saw  the  cap- 
tain's sturdy  figure  standing  at  the  wheel,  turning  the 
spokes  from  time  to  time,  smoking  his  pipe  with  calm, 
regular  puffs,  studying  sky  and  sea  with  patient  inquiry. 
It  grew  cold,  and  the  dew  gathered  thick,  and  dripped 
from  rope  and  spar.  Isla  hardly  felt  the  cold.  She  was 
breathing  the  sea  air,  her  own  air,  once  more,  and  the 
good  boat  was  under  her,  and  she  was  going  home,  —  but 
going  alone.  She  had  been  so  shaken  and  torn  with  fear 
and  pain  these  many  months,  her  life  and  strength  had 
gone  so  entirely  into  the  part  she  was  playing,  the  goal 
she  must  reach,  that  now  there  seemed  nothing  in  life 
so  good  as  this,  to  sit  quiet,  with  no  one  to  see  her  or 
speak  to  her,  rising  and  falling  with  that  slow,  calm 
breathing  of  the  waters,  as  her  own  sea-gulls  loved  to 
fall  and  rise.  To-morrow,  the  awaking  again  to  pain  and 
loneliness,  and  the  thought  of  what  she  had  lost  forever ; 
tonight,  rest ;  rest,  with  no  thought  nor  feeling,  only  the 
sight  of  the  quiet  sea  dimpling  and  lapping  below,  the 
quiet  sky  bending  above.  Rest ! 

She  must  have  slept  at  last,  for  she  was  roused  by 
cheerful  voices,  and  came  to  herself  with  a  start.  The 
dawn  was  breaking  pale  and  clear,  the  stars  still  shining ; 


100  ISLA  HERON. 

the  east  was  tender  with  rose  color ;  below  the  faint,  sweet 
glow  lay  a  band  of  green,  cold  and  pure  as  chrysoprase; 
and  against  this  green  towered  a  great  black  rock. 

"Half -past  three!"  said  the  captain,  looking  at  his 
watch,  as  he  climbed  down  into  the  boat  which  Elmer 
held  ready  against  the  side.  "  Longest  chance  I  ever  had, 
save  and  except  one.  Reckon  we  shall  have  to  rout  out 
the  folks  to  get  us  some  breakfast,  —  my  good  land! 
what's  that?" 

The  good  boat  was  staunch,  but  that  was  a  perilous 
moment,  for  both  men  started  to  their  feet  when  Isla's 
light  figure  dropped  down,  and  sank  with  one  motion  into 
the  bow. 

a  Wn0  —  who  are  ye?"  asked  the  captain,  in  a  stout 
voice  which  quavered  strangely.  "  Are  ye  a  livin'  woman  ? 
Say  quick,  before  I  heave  ye  out  o'  here." 

"  Oh,  Captain  Ezekiel,  it  is  Isla !  Isla  Heron !  Take  me 
home,  will  you  ?  Home  to  the  island.  I  am  never  going 
away  again." 

"And  when  we  come  to  the  beach,"  said  the  captain, 
telling  about  it  afterwards,  "  and  I  was  just  thinkin'  how  I 
would  get  the  poor  child  home  to  my  house  and  get  her 
warm,  and  then  mebbe  she  'd  feel  like  tellin'  me  where  she 
come  from  and  all  about  it, — I  was  just  thinkin',  when  out 
she  jumps  like  a  flash,  and  says,  '  Thank  you,  captain ! ' 
that  pretty  way  she  had,  and  she  was  gone,  up  and  out 
over  the  rocks,  quicker  'n  any  bird  I  ever  saw  fly." 

Up  and  over  the  rocks!  Oh,  the  good  rocks,  gray  and 
black,  with  their  clinging  lichens  of  orange  and  russet! 


THE   WILD  ROCKS  AGAIN.  101 

Oh,  the  friendly  touch  of  them  on  her  feet  as  she  ran! 
The  beach,  with  its  white  shell -sand  disfigured  by  heads 
and  entrails  of  fish,  had  no  charm  to  stay  the  girl  for  an 
instant.  The  rocks  drew  her.  Over  them,  away  and 
away,  round  the  point  where  the  cliff  nodded  outward ; 
there  was  home,  and  rest,  and  peace.  The  light  broadened 
and  brightened,  the  sea  turned  from  gray  to  blue  again,  the 
grass  shimmered  in  green  and  gold,  for  it  was  buttercup 
time.  Isla  stopped  now  and  again  to  lay  her  hand  on  some 
well  -  known  stone,  to  greet  an  old  tree  that  had  been  her 
friend  ever  since  she  could  remember.  The  ravens  were 
still  asleep,  were  they  ?  Lazy  old  ravens ;  how  she  would 
startle  them!  But  they  would  see  that  she  came  alone. 
She  moaned,  and  ran  on  the  faster. 

Past  the  Dead  Valley  now.  They  were  sleeping,  too, 
the  old  mammoths, — they  had  never  missed  her,  had  never 
known  how  she  dreamed  of  them,  how  she  longed  for  them. 
The  sea  knew ;  it  murmured  and  sang  to  her,  telling  her 
over  and  over  again,  how  glad  it  was  to  see  her  home 
again.  Now,  only  one  more  point  to  round,  and  she  was 
home  indeed.  The  strip  of  white  sand  where  Jacob  had 
slept  that  last  time  she  ever  left  him  till  now,  the  roll  of 
seaweed  that  marked  the  boundary  line ;  then  through  the 
swampy  bit,  and  up  into  the  little  green  glade,  where  the 
cottage  clung  to  the  wall  of  the  sheltering  cliff  behind  it. 
Isla  stood  and  looked  where  her  home  should  be,  and  saw  a 
heap  of  ashes,  gray  as  the  rock  behind  them,  with  charred 
beams  scattered  here  and  there. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    LAST. 

NOT  many  days  after  this,  a  sad  and  anxious  group  of 
people  stood  beside  the  ruins  of  the  Heron  cottage. 
Joe  Brazybone,  or  the  distracted  ghost  of  him,  the  trustee, 
who  had  thrown  over  everything  else  and  come  with  Joe, 
and  the  young  missionary.  The  latter  had  come  to  visit 
the  school  only  the  day  after  Isla's  flight;  what  more 
natural  than  that  she  should  join  in  the  search?  The 
trustee  had  gladly  acceded  to  her  petition  that  she  might 
accompany  him.  "  Yes,  yes ! "  he  said ;  "  a  woman  is  the 
thing.  A  woman  can  make  her  listen;  poor  lost  lamb! 
Miss  Stewart  cannot  leave  her  post,  and  you  are  the  very 
one  we  need." 

Here  they  stood  now,  looking  blankly  about  them. 
They  had  heard,  in  the  village,  of  the  cottage  having  been 
burned  soon  after  the  Heron  children  left  it,  by  some 
wanton  boys,  who  had  dared  each  other  to  eat  their  supper 
in  the  "  Witch-house,"  and  had  built  a  fire  carelessly,  and 
fled  when  they  saw  the  mischief  they  had  wrought.  No 
one  had  seen  Isla  since  her  return,  though  one  and  another 


THE  LAST.  103 

had  made  search  for  her.  Captain  Ezekiel  spent  all  the 
time  between  the  two  last  trips  in  searching  and  calling. 
He  fancied  he  saw  her  once,  but,  if  it  were  she,  she  had 
fled  at  sight  or  sound  of  him,  and  it  might  have  been  a 
young  lamb,  he  said,  running  quick  and  light  through  the 
woods.  He  brought  food  with  him,  and  left  it  near  the 
ashes  of  the  cottage ;  when  he  came  again,  it  was  gone,  and 
he  hoped  the  child  had  taken  it. 

Where  should  search  begin  ?  The  trustee  looked  about 
him,  hopelessly.  If  the  islanders  themselves  could  not  find 
the  lost  girl,  what  could  he,  a  stranger,  hope  to  do  ?  His 
face  brightened  as  he  turned  to  look  at  Joe.  The  man  was 
questing  here  and  there  like  a  hound,  spying  at  every  tree, 
catching  at  every  bent  leaf  or  broken  twig.  His  eyes  were 
closed  to  sharp  blue  points,  and  their  glance  pierced  where 
it  struck.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  threw  up  his  head, 
and,  in  all  his  distress,  the  trustee  thought  again  that  the 
creature  wanted  a  tail  to  wag,  and  pitied  him  his  mistaken 
humanity. 

"  She 's  passed  here ! "  said  Joe,  speaking  for  the  first 
time,  in  a  thick,  husky  voice.  «  She 's  passed  here,  gentle- 
man and  preacher,  Isly  has.  I  knowed  it  before,  but  I 
wanted  to  make  surer  than  sure.  Look  at  here !  " 

He  held  up  two  or  three  shells  strung  together,  and  they 
recognized  part  of  a  shell  bracelet  that  Isla  always  wore. 
Joe's  great  hand  shook  as  he  held  it  up,  and  the  breath 
hissed  through  his  teeth. 

"  We  '11  find  her,  sir ! "  he  said,  putting  the  shells  in  his 
bosom.  "  We  '11  find  Isly  this  day.  If  she 's  willin',  that 


104  I8LA  HEBON. 

is !  "  he  added,  turning  upon  them  almost  savagely.  "  This 
hull  island  is  Isly  Heron's  own  dooryard,  I  want  ye  to 
understand,  gentleman  and  preacher.  She's  to  home  here, 
to  go  where  she  likes  and  do  as  she  likes,  and  I  'd  like  to 
see  any  one  try  to  bender  her.  She  lets  common  folks  live 
up  to  the  fur  end,  and  that 's  because  she's  the  lady  she  is. 
Brazybones  know,  I  tell  ye;  Brazybones  know  Herons! 
And  if  she  don't  want  us  to  find  her,  why  then  she  won't 
be  found.  But  I  hope, — "  his  voice  broke  and  faltered,  and 
the  glare  died  out  of  his  eyes,  —  "  I  'm  in  hopes  that  my 
young  lady  will  let  us  pass  the  time  o'  day  with  her,  seein' 
we  come  so  fur,  and  there 's  things  old  Joe  wants  to  explain 
to  her.  There 's  things  he 's  got  .to  say  to  her,  I  tell  ye. 
There !  we  're  losin'  time  while  I  'm  palaverin'  here.  You 
foller  me,  gentleman  and  lady,  and  foller  soft,  if  you  ever 
went  soft  in  yer  lives !  " 

He  led  the  way,  the  others  following,  through  the  little 
Home  Valley,  as  Isla  called  it,  through  a  narrow  rocky 
pass  and  over  a  great  brown  hill,  down  into  the .  Dead 
Valley,  which  lay  beyond.  The  trustee  looked  about  him 
with  amazement,  for,  though  he  had  travelled  far,  he  had 
never  seen  such  a  place  as  this  on  the  earth.  He  would 
have  asked  some  questions,  but  Joe  waved  him  on  with 
feverish  eagerness. 

"  Look  here ! "  he  said.  "  She 's  been  here,  and  not  so 
long  ago.  Look  at  the  yew-bed,  here ! " 

They  looked  in  wonder  at  the  great  cushion  of  trailing 
yew  that  spread  thick  over  the  ground  under  one  of  the 
dead  cedars.  It  curled  close,  a  perfumed  mat ;  no  queen 


THE  LAST.  105 

could  have  a  softer  couch.  Their  eyes  sought  in  vain 
any  print  of  a  light  form,  though  Joe  was  pointing 
eagerly. 

"  I  tell  ye  she  's  been  here ! "  he  repeated.  "  No  place 
she  loved  better  to  sleep  in  than  one  of  these  yew -beds. 
She  mostly  never  slept  within  doors  in  summer,  Isly 
didn't;  and  this  kind  o'  place  she  loved  to  lay  in. 
Look !  .  here 's  tufts  o'  wool  in  it,  too.  Mebbe  a  lamb 
came  and  couched  down  with  her  for  company;  they 
allers  loved  Isly,  and  come  meechin'  round  her  whenever 
she  'd  go  abroad ;  and  mebbe  she  felt  lonesome,  and  let 
one  of  'em  snuggle  up  to  her." 

His  voice  broke,  and  he  hurried  on  ;  the  other  two  felt 
their  own  eyes  dimmed,  as  the  picture  came  before  them, 
—  the  lonely  girl  lying  down  to  sleep  under  God's  kind 
sky,  with  the  wild  lamb  in  her  arms. 

Still  on,  in  silence  now.  They  had  made  a  circuit,  and 
were  coming  near  the  sea  again,  but  through  rougher, 
wilder  ways.  Deep  gorges  dropped  away  before  them, 
black  as  night,  with  huge  boulders  wedged  across  them ; 
in  the  wider  ones  a  tiny  strip  of  green,  with  fresh  Avater 
trickling  down.  Here  they  came  to  a  broad  meadow,  with 
black  spruces,  and  rocks  of  orange -tawny  lichen  glowing 
like  flame.  Again,  they  found  themselves  in  a  moss  or 
bog,  with  rounded  tufts,  soft  and  springy,  and  purple  flags 
nodding  here  and  there ;  while  higher  up  (for  June  had 
come  again)  they  saw  the  scarlet  sorrel  spread  like  a  gay 
mantle  on  the  great  hill  shoulder. 

At  the  foot  of  one  of  these  huge  shoulders  Joe  Brazy- 


106  ISLA   HERON. 

bone  paused,  and  dropped  his  head,  questing  silently  ;  then, 
with  a  gesture  of  caution,  he  led  the  way  upward. 

"  Do  not  call ! "  they  had  said  in  the  village.  "  If  you 
call,  or  startle  her,  she  will  go  crazed,  if  she  is  not  al- 
ready." 

Joe  knew  that  well,  and  from  time  to  time  he  turned 
fiercely  on  his  companions,  almost  threatening  in  his 
earnest  gestures.  He  would  gladly  have  bidden  them 
stay  below,  and  let  him  go  alone  to  find  his  mistress  ; 
but  he  knew,  poor  Joe,  in  his  humble,  dog-like  understand- 
ing, he  knew  his  voice  was  not  the  one  that  Isla  would  be 
most  likely  to  listen  to,  that  his  face  was  not  the  one  to 
please  her  best,  coming  suddenly  into  her  solitude.  "  Gen- 
tle folks  wants  their  like,"  he  said,  patiently  to  himself. 
"Old  Joe  ain't  the  proper  person  to  speak  first  to  his 
young  lady,  supposin'  she  's  willin'  to  be  spoke  to." 

Could  they  but  move  silently !  The  grass  was  soft  and 
new,  and  made  no  sound,  but  here  and  there  lay  dry  leaves 
of  last  year,  caught  in  the  roots  of  the  trees  and  held  there 
against  the  blasts  that  sweep  and  tear  through  the  winter ; 
these  crackled  if  one  touched  them  ;  now  and  again  a  twig 
snapped,  for  the  preacher's  dress,  gather  it  close  as  she 
could  about  her,  would  sometimes  float  and  catch  as  she 
passed.  Up  the  huge  crag  they  went,  drawing  their  very 
breath  in  fear ;  and  now,  Joe,  who  reached  the  summit  first, 
flung  back  his  hand,  half  beckoning,  half  warning.  The 
others  crept  nearer.  The  rock  was  crested  with  spruce  and 
cedar;  peering  though  the  black  fringes,  they  saw  a  tiny 
circle  hollowed,  carpeted  with  russet  needles  and  velvet 


THE  LAST.  107 

moss,  with  strawberry  and  twin -flower  creeping  together. 
Here  Isla  was  sitting,  braiding  her  long  hair.  A  leaf,  half 
full  of  wild  strawberries,  lay  beside  her,  and  with  it  the 
broken  half  of  the  shell  bracelet.  Her  face  was  worn  with 
pain,  her  eyes  were  dark  and  soft,  with  the  look  of  many 
tears.  The  black  trees  bent  over  her,  pressed  round  her, 
as  if  sheltering  and  protecting  her.  It  was  as  if  she  had 
sought  this  little  secret  chamber  of  the  wild  rocks,  sure  of 
protection  and  solitude.  Who  should  dare  to  speak  to  the 
island  child  ? 

Was  there  some  movement,  some  sigh?  No  one  else 
heard  it,  but  Isla  suddenly  caught  her  breath ;  started, 
turned.  For  an  instant  the  eyes  of  the  watchers  caught 
hers,  full  of  leaping  terror;  then,  silently,  she  sprang 
through  the  screen  of  trees,  and  fled  away  across  the  rocks. 
They  must  follow  her  now,  as  best  they  might.  Keeping 
out  of  sight  whenever  it  was  possible,  the  three  sped  in 
pursuit ;  but  their  hearts  sank  when  they  came  out  full  on 
the  further  slope  of  the  hill,  and  saw  what  lay  before 
them. 

Some  tremendous  convulsion  of  Nature  had  in  bygone  ages 
struck  and  shattered  this  point  of  the  island.  There  must 
have  been  shock  upon  shock,  of  awful  force,  to  rear  and 
twist  and  crush  and  rend  the  rocks  into  these  fantastic 
nightmare  shapes.  They  stretched  thus  for  some  distance, 
a  silent  tumult,  a  tempest  turned  to  stone ;  then  came  the 
verge. 

Tower  on  tower,  pinnacle  on  pinnacle,  rising,  rising. 
And,  looking  down,  one  sheer  fall  below  another;  at  the 


108  ISLA   HERON. 

foot,  the  surf  leaping,  dancing,  tossing  to  and  fro,  flinging 
up  white  arms  as  if  beckoning,  entreating. 

And  from  crag  to  crag  ran  the  wild  girl,  light  as  the 
springing  foam  itself,  flitting  now  up,  now  down,  but 
always  onward,  swift  as  a  bird,  never  glancing  behind  her. 

Swift  as  a  bird  ?  What  birds  were  these,  that  swept  out 
from  some  hidden  crevice  of  the  rock,  black  as  itself? 
They  balanced  on  broad  wings,  hovered  about  the  child's 
head,  as  if  greeting  her;  then,  with  hoarse  cries,  drove 
heavily  forward,  keeping  near  her  as  she  ran. 

When  Joe  Brazybone  saw  the  ravens,  he  stopped  dead. 
A  dizziness  seized  him,  and  he  sank  on  his  knees,  and 
pulled  off  his  ragged  cap.  "  The  woman !  "  he  muttered 
hoarsely.  "  Let  the  woman  speak  to  her !  Nothin'  but  the 
ravens  can  foller  her  where  she's  goin'.  Let  the  woman 
speak,  and  you  and  I  '11  stop  here  and  pray." 

The  trustee  hesitated  a  moment  —  measured  the  gulfs 
before  him  with  his  eye ;  glanced  at  the  bowed  figure 
beside  him  ;  then  he,  too,  dropped  to  his  knees,  and  motioned 
to  the  preacher  to  try  her  voice,  since  her  feet  could  go  no 
further. 

But  the  preacher  was  a  brave  woman,  and  was  minded 
to  go  yet  a  step  forward.  One  and  two  steps  she  took  ; 
then  came  upon  a  toppling  verge,  below  which  was  nothing 
but  the  empty  air  and  the  tumbling  sea  below.  She  re- 
coiled, and  for  the  first  time  a  human  voice  rang  through 
that  awful  solitude. 

"  Isla ! "  cried  the  preacher.  "  Isla,  come  back !  come 
back  to  us!" 


THE  LAST.  109 

The  girl  turned,  with  a  cry,  a  wild  gesture  ;  whether  of 
greeting  or  defiance,  they  could  not  tell.  Then  —  a  slip, 
was  it,  or  a  spring?  Who  shall  say?  A  foam  crest 
tossed  high  in  air,  then  fell,  and  swept  out  through  the 
pale  beryl-green,  out  to  the  blue  beyond.  Borne  with  the 
great  wave,  tossing,  drifting, — is  it  a  tress  of  weed  torn 
from  the  rock  ?  Or  has  the  sea  taken  his  child  to  him- 
self? 


THE   END. 


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